Stray
by Fezzy
Summary: Tifa picks up a wounded stranger from the streets of Midgar, but little does she know this stray would have been best left alone... Gameverse with a little tweaking. Cloti-ish. Rated for language, violence and adult content
1. Stray

AN: This has been sitting in my computer for ages now and I finally decided to post it. Despite what the summary says, ratings apply more to the coming chapters than this one. Otherwise, I'm going to keep these notes short and get on with it. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing 

**Chapter one: Stray**

It was already dark when the train lurched into a heavy stop in its destination. The wheels gave a tired screech against the rusted rails, steam engulfed the platform as the outdated metallic beast let out an enormous sigh before falling into slumber. The train was an unfashionable method of transportation, lacking the luxuries of more developed machinery built for the same purpose and favored by those with wealth, but still a reasonably large amount of people started to unpack from the many battered cars. Bleary eyed children were carried off, stacks of luggage were busily mounted up in a stack by the few station employees and tired travelers looked for relatives or otherwise familiar faces.

A long haired brunette exited the train as well, her impressive and elegant appearance somewhat diminished by the almost-invisible act of rubbing her sore behind. It had been a long trip, but one that she was happy to make several times a year, whenever her paycheck allowed. Even in the dull light of the lamp posts she could remember the clear, cold winter sun of her hometown, and despite the heavy pollution under the plate, she still had the remnants of Nibelheim's mountain air in her lungs.

Exhaustion pulled her limbs towards the ground, but she smiled. Around her, the crowd started to thin down when passengers one after another found their way into the city of Midgar. Oh well, she should get going too before it got too late. She knew it was dangerous for a girl to walk alone in the dark, but she could take care of herself.

Shaking her head, Tifa Lockhart refastened the strap of her large bag and slung it around her shoulder. The platform was almost empty. The sound of her steps was sucked in by the thick pavement, and she was already thinking about what to fix as a quick dinner before turning in, when she heard the loud clang of the cargo car's door being slammed open. Then, she deduced crates were hauled out by the sound of heavy breathing and thuds when they hit the ground, and still she didn't think that anything was out of the ordinary. She even had time to feel a teeny tiny bit sorry for the workers since the train had been late due to some sort of complication –

"What the –" a shout came skittering across the platform. "Hey, Bevis! Get over here!"

It was one of the workers, and the surprise in his voice forced Tifa to sneak a curious glance over her shoulder. The other worker – Bevis, apparently – jogged over to his colleague to look inside the car. He cursed loudly.

"Damn it, not one of these again! We just had one last week!" He hung his head in frustration. Neither of them noticed the brunette on the other end of the platform or that she had stopped walking.

Tifa remained standing there while the clearly irritated twosome continued talking. She had half the mind of stepping closer to hear better, but didn't. After all, it wasn't like the two men were trying to speak exceptionally quietly.

"So, what do you wanna do?" the worker who had found whatever it was that resided in the car, asked after a while. "Should we call the boss? You know, let the authorities handle this…"

"Nah," Bevis said and waved his hand in the air, almost like swatting away an annoying fly, "it won't help a thing. There'll be questions to answer, reports to be written… and we're already working overtime. Damn freeloaders." He lighted up a smoke, but soon put it out under his shoe.

"Let's just toss him out and hope he disappears before morning. They usually do," he finally decided in a gruff voice. Their figures disappeared inside the car and a mirthless laugh echoed from the shadow. "Tsch, he's too unconscious to argue anyways… You take the legs."

Outside, Tifa wondered if what she'd just witnessed was a violation of the regulations in a massive scale, or if this happened so often that everybody had stopped caring already. She suspected the latter; Midgar could be a ruthless city, and without any luck, you were left to fend for yourself. Unfortunately for the assumed rabbit, being unconscious prevented him from doing that. He was probably as good as dead – and yet, the world continued turning, uncaring of the less-fortunate.

Tifa was supposed to be used to this, because after moving to Midgar several years ago and witnessing the hard day-to-day life of the slums, she believed she had seen it all. So, she did not flinch or cringe at the sight of two men carrying the limp body of a young man onto the platform, and then throw him on the hard pavement in a rather indifferent manner. No, she wasn't disgusted or appalled – she was only mildly fascinated of the way his head seemed to move in slow motion before hitting the ground with a dull sound.

Bevis nudged the unmoving man in the side with his foot. He didn't care to be too delicate, and the man nearly rolled over with the impact. "Good luck, kid. Try getting a decent job in the next life and this won't happen again," he scoffed before turning away with his companion and starting to carry the crates towards the warehouses.

Minutes went by, with Tifa standing there and the man lying in the exact same, uncomfortable looking position. Tifa didn't know why she hadn't left already – this didn't concern her. The man was probably a criminal, a gang member, or just an unfortunate passerby caught up in the tides of the underworld. People like him couldn't survive the harsh reality of Midgar.

But… she had just come from a world where there wasn't a plate above their heads shutting out every last ray of sunlight, where people could actually afford to care for each other, where the words like 'hospitality' and 'compassion' still meant something. In Nibelheim, nobody would leave a stranger like him to die in his helpless state. In Nibelheim, he would be offered medical treatment, food and water, a warm bed and a roof above his head for as long as necessary. The whole town would contribute in the stranger's possible recovery.

Giving a weary sigh, Tifa started walking. The least she could do was correct the man's arm, which was bent in an almost unnatural way. When she reached him, she crouched on her heels and set her bag away. Then, she carefully tried to shift the man's torso and get the arm from under him. He was surprisingly heavy to move, but after some effort, his arm was lying neatly on top of his stomach. Now, Tifa allowed herself a closer look at the stranger.

His ragged clothes, or what was left of them, resembled a uniform of some kind. Tifa grimaced when the stench of blood invaded her nostrils, and that was when she realized just what the dark smears in the torn fabric were. Alarm surged in her veins, but a more detached part of her mind said that the blood was old – he wasn't bleeding anymore, at least. Here and there, patches of pale skin showed from where his uniform was even more battered. His face was obscured by the visor of his helmet, but his neck was slender and somehow beautiful under all the layers of mud, blood and other substances that Tifa was happy not recognizing.

She hesitated removing his helmet. Seeing his face… it would make him real; a human being, a person with ties and a past. She was not involved in this just yet.

Sucking in a concentrated breath, she set her hands on either sides of the helmet and pulled upwards. With some resistance, the gear came off and revealed a headful of unruly, blonde hair and a face far younger than she'd expected. He was probably only a few years older than her, and already so alone in the world, so deserted.

She was so surprised that she didn't even feel the warm blood on her hands. But then, the iron stench of it hit her in the face and her stomach immediately did flips. Instinctively, she put a hand over her mouth – and realized only then that she was only making the mess worse.

Now that she looked at him with a little more neutral eyes, she saw that it was not his youth that should have stunned her, but his general condition. His whole face was covered with smudges of dirt, mud and the combination of dry and fresh blood. His mess of a hair was also stained; blonde spikes highlighted with a grotesque hue of red. Nervous, Tifa moved her shaking hand and lifted the hair off his forehead, because the blood seemed to trickle down from there. She frowned deep in utter distaste and revulsion – strands the color of August wheat were heavy and moist with blood. They dripped small droplets on the man's already blemished skin.

The cut was nasty to say the least. The sick feeling in Tifa's stomach got more and more consequential when she looked at the edges of the wound which were not clean at all. Stitches wouldn't do, the skin was too torn. With caution, she lowered his hair back down. She couldn't help him any further, and while she knew her share of giving first-aid, she didn't have any of the necessary equipment with her.

Besides, the man didn't look like he was about to wake up anytime soon. Could he have brain damage? No, the cut wasn't that deep, and after a brief moment of examining his head with her fingers, she found no further injuries. Still, what worried her most was internal bleeding… if that was the case, she was wasting her time.

She looked around, but the whole station area was completely devoid of people. It was late already, even though it was hard to tell with the endless night of the world under the plate, and silence took over the slums – well, except for Wall Market. So, there was no help to be expected.

Tifa looked at the man again, thinking. Did he have parents that worried over him, just like her parents would if she went missing? Would no one stay behind to miss him if he died now? Should she care?

Just like she had earlier presumed, this man could be a criminal. A killer, even, or a madman. There was no way of knowing. But, since the second she had taken his helmet off and seen his face, she had let go of the chance of walking away unperturbed. The image of this helpless stranger would come back to haunt her, no matter how hard she tried to tell herself that this was the way of the city.

"Tifa Lockhart, it's your own damn fault if you get caught up in something stupid now…" she muttered with a small groan. Then, she started to rummage through her bag until coming up with one of her better shirts and promptly tearing off the sleeve. She lifted the man's head on her knee and worked a makeshift bandage around his head. "All right. Let's do this."

The hundreds and hundreds of hours she'd spent on learning martial arts with Zangan had included several handy ways of carrying people, if the time and need came. She tried lifting the man, just as a little test. They both nearly tumbled down, Tifa giving sharp, shocked gasp. He… he couldn't be this heavy, right? The man wasn't overly tall or very heavily built. He did have a well toned set of muscles, that much Tifa had felt while moving him, but it wouldn't explain this. It was going to be a lot harder than she had even dared to expect. The trip to Sector Seven wasn't that short either.

After several minutes of very unfeminine grunting under his weight, Tifa finally managed to sling him sideways over her shoulders and even succeeded in picking up her bag.

Still, her knees threatened to give away with every step. It was like carrying a boulder.

_xxx_

It took forever, but finally the outlines of her building came into sight. Tifa's muscles burned and trembled with sheer fatigue, but she had made it. The man seemed to have gotten heavier and heavier by the second, and for more than a couple of times Tifa had wanted nothing more than to dump him in the ditch.

They must have made the oddest pair, and the few people still around always remembered to give them cross looks before hurrying away at the stench of blood. Tifa knew what they were thinking in their heads. Foolish girl. She'll just end up in trouble.

That very well might be, she knew, but in a way it was relieving to know that this place hadn't completely gotten to her just yet. She remembered what it had been like, first coming to Midgar. After the first night, she wanted to just leave and go back home. Life under the plate… well, even calling it life was stretching it pretty far. It had been very hard for her, as she was such a naïve, young girl. But she had learned. Just like Zangan had taught her how to defend, how to protect, how to go on the offence, she had taught herself how to push her feelings aside in order to survive in this uncaring place. Her childish ideals were placed in the furthermost corner on her mind and a lid was put on top of them. She had hardened her heart, she had become selfish – and she had made it.

Of course, she spoke nothing of this at home. Her parents were still under the impression that she was living on top of the Plate amongst the beautiful houses and streets and gardens. There was no need to worry them. She had actually managed to make a living under the Plate – and she damn well would succeed on the Plate as well.

The stairs leading up to her door creaked miserably under her feet, and for a moment Tifa feared that the whole thing would fall apart. She did a mental note of checking the metal pipe constructions that held up the staircase. She had become pretty handy after moving in Midgar.

The building, miraculously well built considering where they were, had four apartments, two at street level and two sitting on top of them. Tifa had practically fought over the second floor flat, but for a good reason. It was such a little factor but reduced the possibility of being broken into quite substantially. In Midgar, burglars didn't just take the family silvers. They took everything that wasn't bolted to the floor, and carrying a couch or a stove down the stairs whilst trying to remain unnoticed proved to be pretty inconvenient.

Tifa searched for her keys and felt like collapsing. Surprisingly enough, the jingly item was in her pants pocket, and she got the door open with a sturdy shove of her shoulder. "Almost… there…" she couldn't help but telling herself as she neared the living room couch. She dipped her back right and the man flopped neatly on the cushions.

Tifa's back nearly killed her when she straightened up. She knew the man's dirty clothes were ruining the textiles of the couch, but she needed a breather and dropped down on her behind. Her joints popped when she rolled her shoulders. Getting up from her bed tomorrow would be a gamble…

She sighed tiredly and started to take off the man's boots. They were dirty and battered as well, but Tifa recognized a well made pair of boots when she saw one, and placed them in the entryway.

As she couldn't possibly get a doctor for him at this hour – not in this neighborhood – there was only one thing left to do, and so Tifa hauled up the man once again and dragged him into her bathroom. It was a cramped space by itself, but with the man on her back, Tifa couldn't even turn around. Most of the space available was stolen by the bath tub she'd insisted on bringing from home. She would get by with very little, but the tub was a must.

Trying to be as gentle as she could, Tifa placed the man in the tub. She winced when his head hit the tiles. 'Sorry', she mouthed. He was too tall for her tub, but oh well, he wasn't going to complain, was he now?

Tifa cleared her throat loudly. Now, it was time to gather her courage. She knew this had to be done, or else he'd drip mud all over her place.

It wasn't like she'd never seen a man naked before.

With unsteady hands, she began to strip the man from his rugged clothes. There were a lot of straps holding his uniform together, which explained why the badly torn fabric hadn't already fallen off. It took some effort, but she got the shirt part off him and proceeded to undo the pants. Forcing herself to remain indifferent towards the fact that there was one _fine _example of male anatomy lying in her tub, she checked him for any further wounds. And if she happened to notice, say, other things about him it was purely by coincidence.

She pushed him on his other side to peek at his back and his side. He had a cluster of dirty contusion wounds as if he had taken a hard fall, as well some still developing bruising near his pelvis. His back was fine. His front side had also suffered some contusions but these were a little more minor, although on his chest was a long, diagonal mark where his skin had turned an angry red. From the shape of the mark she assumed he had rammed against a tree branch… or something. She shivered at the thought of other possibilities.

She stopped to stare at him for a while. His skin was almost a deathly white and contrasted with his bruises in a somewhat… intriguing way. It was like he hadn't been out in the sun for years. Tifa concentrated her gaze on the opposite wall as her hands worked the pants down from his legs. She felt a little more than slightly self-conscious when she found her eyes wandering towards his crotch.

Suddenly hit by a spontaneous fit of coughing she grabbed his clothes in a flash and went to throw them in the dumpster, busily telling herself that she had not seen a trail of soft blonde hairs travel south from under his belly button.

When she came back, her mouth was a grim line and she finished the job efficiently enough. The water spiraling into the drain was either a muddy brown or a light pink color depending on where she was rinsing him. It took a while until the water was clear again, but finally the smell of blood was washed from her senses and replaced with the mild jasmine odor of the soap she used.

"I apologize for the unmanly scent, buddy," she murmured while draping a thick towel over him. The man had remained absolutely still during her ministrations – which was a relief, actually. She didn't want to even think about the uncomfortable and unexplainable situation they'd be in if he suddenly just woke up, stark naked and a strange woman bathing him.

After drying him off, she retrieved her first-aid kit and applied some disinfectant to his wounds and a decent bandage on his forehead. The cut was still bleeding, but at least it was clean for now.

She moved him back into the living room and went to rummage through her closet for some clothes, but none of her outfits would fit his frame. Finally, the only resolution she could think of was wrapping him up in a spare sheet and a blanket. She'd get him appropriate clothing tomorrow. Finishing up his quite sophisticated toga attire she placed a couple of pillows under his head.

That was it. That was all she could do for now. As for why she had bothered… it was hard to say. There were probably many reasons, one of them being her need to take care of things, but for now she felt good about it. He was too young to be left on the street like that. He still had time to change. Tifa had always been a firm believer in second chances, and this guy deserved his chance as well.

Sitting on the edge of her worn out, old armchair, she watched him. If not for the slight raise of his chest with every breath, he could have been dead. But what a graceful corpse he would make – he was perfect. Truly very, very beautiful. His hair formed funny spikes that stuck up in the most ridiculous directions. He had delicate, refined features and long, light lashes that fluttered against his cheeks unconsciously. His lips were tinted in a slight pink. He could look like a girl, but at the same time, there was something very masculine about him.

Tifa wondered if sunlight caused him to get freckles.

She stood up to adjust the covers on him, and then headed for the shower. Maybe he shouldn't be left unattended, but if he woke up and decided to rob the house or kill her, she would have deserved it for not knowing any better.

_xxx_

He slept for two days straight. Each morning Tifa would nudge his shoulder gently, but he didn't even stir. It was weird being in her apartment with someone else constantly there. Tifa hadn't lived with anybody since moving out from home. Yesterday she came home from work late at night, forgot about the sleeping guy and actually sat on him.

She screamed so loud that the neighbor, rubbing sleep from his eyes, came to ask if everything was fine. Tifa had laughed a shrilly laugh like she always did when nervous and shooed him away. Thank god she hadn't sat on the guy's bad side and caused any of his wounds to rupture.

Shadows had appeared under his eyes. Tifa had tried to make him drink, but the water just slid down his jaw. She started to panic. What if he died there, on her couch? There was no way she could afford a doctor right now, never mind the expenses for putting him on an I.V. As expected, there was no health care in the slums. Doctors, save for a few saints who worked on good will alone, charged amounts that were impossible for most.

So, all she could do was to hope he'd wake up soon. One time she even crouched down near the man's head and whispered in his ear, telling him to open his eyes. It was not his time yet. He at least owed her a thank you!

Watching him had become a habit and she was fascinated by the way the light played on his face. But, then again, it would be much more interesting to see life and movement and sound come over him. The state he was in right now reminded her more and more of a corpse with every passing moment.

Maybe it was brain damage after all, she thought to herself and pushed him out of her mind. Maybe he wouldn't wake up ever. Well, it was a hell of a lot easier not to get unnecessarily attached to a lifeless wax doll.

But on the third day, he woke up.

_xxx_

"_Strife, run! Run, now…! Cloud! GO!"_

Light shined through his eyelids. The dream fluttered away. Was it a dream…? …No… Memory?…

His eyes snapped open as the pain came in. He felt like someone had smashed his head against a brick wall. Oh, right. Maybe they had.

Consciousness rushed back in, bringing with it questions each one more fundamental than the other before it. But the questions were numbed by the pain. It wasn't just his head. He hurt _everywhere_. Muscles that he didn't even know existed, ached miserably.

There was no room for pain. He recited the rules in his mind, over and over. Get up. Breathe. Watch your surroundings. Move. Don't forget to check your fucking back… With an almost maniacal grimace he pushed himself in a sitting position. His side protested and his head was in flames. He exhaled sharply, forced himself to overcome the pain exploding all over his body and searched the room with his eyes for possible threats.

He was slightly surprised. But only slightly. This could be a hallucination.

It was dim, almost dark, but his eyes adjusted quickly. He seemed to be in a small room with a couple of ordinary looking pieces of furniture. On his right was the presumed main door and on his left an even smaller kitchen space and two doors more. Behind him was a window that showed a flickering street light. The light that woke him was coming from there.

He listened, his whole body tense. The apartment was empty, save for him. What the fuck was going on? No matter how hard he raked his memory, he couldn't recall ever being here before. What possible use could they have for a place like this?

Was this one of their experiments? If so, he couldn't understand its meaning. Then again, maybe that was just the point… him not understanding… yeah, it should have transmitted some fucking interesting brain waves…

He tried moving again, perhaps he could stand up. One muscle at a time… He was painfully aware of his nervous system. His head hurt when he tried to focus.

Then, the sound of keys being inserted into a lock and turning steadily. He froze. Thump. Someone was coming through the door. But why the hell would they use the keys? _'Damn it, I'm too slow, it's over…' _

Artificial light illuminated the other half of the room when the door opened. He had never seen the woman in his life.

"Oh crap," she said. "You're awake."

"Where am I?" he shouted immediately, his hand instinctively shooting out to find something fit for a weapon. The glass coffee table broke when his fist came down too hard.

The woman yelled in shock at the sound of glass shattering and dropped something onto the floor.

"Who are you?" he kept shouting through the white hot pain flashing in his eyes. When he gripped the back of the couch and tried to push himself upright, he nearly vomited. "Who are you!"

"Calm down!" Now, the woman was shouting as well.

He couldn't take it anymore, the noises, the light, the movement. They all made his head split apart. Besides, his whole body started to get limp. He was out of energy already. He lifted a hand to his face, covering half of his vision with sweet darkness.

"Are you… one of them?" he heaved, his breathing becoming difficult.

"One of who?" the woman asked in a more quiet tone and took a tentative step closer. She stopped in her tracks when she saw his face. "Stay away!" he spat.

She lifted her hands up in the air, palms faced towards him. "Just… calm down, okay?"

Then, she drew in a shaky breath, not taking her eyes off him for a second. "I get it… you're scared. But it's okay now. See? I'm harmless."

Tsch. Stupid woman. Her lines were so fake it made him want to laugh. Instead, he barked, "Answer me! Who the hell are you? What is this place?"

Something flickered across the woman's eyes. For a second he thought it was anger. As if she'd been insulted. What a joke.

"I'm Tifa," she told, hands still held up, "Tifa Lockhart. This is my apartment, in Sector Seven." Her voice was calm, but fear and anxiety could be detected. She was scared of him. Hah. A better actress than he'd originally thought. He ran her face and name over in his mind again but came up with nothing. He waited. The possibility of her not being one of them increased with every second she just stood there, not attacking him. Knowing those people like he did, there was no way they'd send someone who hesitated so long. And to think there was a window behind him… If the woman intended on making her move, now would be the time. Last chance, honey.

Perhaps… just perhaps… this was all a coincidence. In that case he'd been incredibly lucky.

He didn't believe in luck, so he remained suspicious. 'Trust' or 'good will' had never done him any good in the past, so why should he start believing in them now? He cleared his throat, for it felt like someone had poured sand down it.

"Sector Seven? As in Midgar?"

"That's right," she replied quietly, not moving. After a brief moment of hesitation she spoke up again, "I found you at the station… You were unconscious. What… what's your name? Maybe I could contact someone… "

He thought about it. He looked around and listened. It seemed nobody was hiding here in the apartment and waiting to pounce on him the second he let his guard down. Not that his 'guard' was of any help to him right now. He was as helpless as a sick kitten and the only thing he could do was to take advantage of the woman's fright of him.

"…Cloud." He was too tired to think of a cover up. It was a weird name anyways, so if she didn't believe him, it didn't matter.

"Okay. Nice to meet you, Cloud." She said nervously, finally taking her eyes off his face. "Look, maybe you should lie back down? Your hand has some glass in it…" she pointed at his palm.

Surprised, he looked down, and sure enough there was a two inch shard sticking up from his hand. He frowned. The woman… no, Tifa, he reminded himself, was still talking.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you a doctor. You know how it is here, right? I could ask around, though. One of our regulars is a doctor, but then again he's an alcoholic so you might want to reconsider that…"

Cloud cut her off, not one to listen to idle chat, "No doctors. I'm fine."

"O-okay," Tifa said, a little thrown off, "If you're sure… I just thought maybe you'd want to get checked for broken ribs or something… "

This time, he silenced her with an icy stare and started to get up. The pain had eased down to a tolerable degree, at least on his standards which he knew were pretty far from normal. The woman stepped forward, as if to help him.

"No," he told her bluntly, "it is not necessary."

The woman froze, "Oh." She watched him struggle to stay on his feet, an odd look on her face. What was that again? Worry? What reason would she have to worry about him…

There was a swishing sound as well a current of air going down his feet.

One second later, Cloud realized he was naked.

And he didn't even react.

"Where is the toilet?" he asked flatly, unconcerned.

"…Huh?" Tifa blinked. Birds sang inside her head and shooting stars flashed in her eyes.

Why on earth in this situation… then it dawned. He'd been unconscious and _unmoving_ for possibly more than three days. She blushed bright red and pointed him in the right direction, "Oh! Go, uh, right ahead…"

_xxx_

Tifa swept together the remains of her coffee table with a wistful smile on her face. She had liked that table. It had been discovered at a local flee market; a real bargain that needed just a little polishing. Careful not to injure herself, she put the wood and glass fragments into a plastic bag and dumped it with the rest of the garbage. She then mentally braced herself, swept up the clothes she'd just borrowed from Biggs today and went to knock on the bathroom door, feeling uneasy.

"What?" came the muffled answer.

"Sorry to… uh… interrupt, but I forgot to give you a change of clothes…" Her free hand balled into a tight fist. Why was she so uncomfortable? It was not usual for her to become a ball of nerves.

In the back of her mind, she knew. This guy creeped her out.

The door cracked open, and a hand shot out. Tifa gave him the bundle of fabric and listened to the lock turn into place. She released a sigh. Before walking away, she called through the door, "Tell me if you need a hand, okay?"

She wandered back into the living room, chewing her nails. It was another nervous habit, one that she couldn't quite shake. Okay so, rescuing this Cloud guy had been a bad idea, she could admit it now. He obviously wasn't normal. Sure he could be still shocked about waking up in a completely unfamiliar place, but seriously, the look in his eye still made Tifa shudder. She had actually waited for him to assault her when she first walked into the apartment.

As a kid, she had watched a lot of nature documents. Cornered wild animals had that same look.

She suspected head injury. It was normal of them to cause disorientation, wasn't it? '_I should probably call a doctor, just in case… No, never mind that, I should straight up contact the nearest mental institution…Maybe they're short one loon.'_

She jumped when a loud crash came from the bathroom. With her heart pounding like crazy, she rushed back to the door and tried yanking it. "Cloud? Is everything all right? Should I come in?"

No answer. She hesitated just for a second, before pressing down the handle with her martial arts enhanced full strength. Of course, the doors in Midgar weren't that sturdy to begin with. The whole handle broke down, and after a couple of solid bumps, the door was open and revealed a momentarily passed out Cloud lying flat on the floor. Scraps and hunks of what had been her porcelain sink were scattered all around him.

Tifa hurried to kneel down beside him and lifted his head into her hands, "Cloud? Cloud, wake up!"

His eyes began to stir and he mumbled something incomprehensible. Tifa wanted to shake him back into his senses, but in his current state it was impossible. _'Dear God, if I take my eyes off him for a second he's going to destroy everything…'_ But as she was wondering if it would be appropriate to charge him for the damages, her eyes happened to sweep over the medicine cabinet. The mirror door was thrown open and orange pill containers spilled on the broken sink.

Her brow furrowed, but she didn't have time to think further when Cloud regained his senses and practically leapt away from her. How the hell could he move so fast with injuries like that? And, more importantly, what was going on?

"What happened?" she asked, her voice stern and eyes nailed to his bruised face. If he was a junkey, she would throw him out this instant and feel no remorse. She didn't want any of that shit in her home. He looked pretty strong, but Tifa thought she could take him on, since he probably couldn't use those muscles of his right now. She squeezed her hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

Cloud swept porcelain rubble off the toilet seat and slumped down heavily. He wouldn't meet her gaze, and his tone was avoiding, "…was looking for pain killers." He grumbled, like an ill-mannered brat about to get scolded. He seemed annoyed by her questions, which was odd, since any normal person would have understood just why she felt the need to ask.

"O-kay," she said after staring at him for a while, letting her voice show just how suspicious she was of this. When he didn't bother to explain any further, she rose with a sigh and said, "You could've just asked me." There was no getting through to him. It was better to give up.

She started to go through the containers until finding one prescribed to her when she broke her arm and dislocated a shoulder during practice. This time, he glared at her openly. His icy stare unnerved her, but she met his gaze head-on.

"There," she handed him the pills. She noticed him check the label carefully, like he didn't trust her ability to discriminate. Or read. She shook her head to diffuse the irritation he brought out in her. He was not a very… easygoing person, to say the least.

"So, what about the sink then?" No matter how much he detested answering her questions, she had the right to know. This was her house he was breaking apart, bit by bit, it seemed.

Cloud was silent for a long two minutes, as if testing whether or not she'd let the matter go if he stalled long enough. Conquered by her stubbornness, he ran a hand over his face. "… I think I put my weight on the wrong leg, and it gave out. I tried grabbing the sink for support. It wasn't enough."

Tifa's eyes widened, "Really? That sounds bad… roll up the leg and I'll fix you up a splint…" She hadn't thought the injury to his right leg was major, but to be honest, she hadn't checked it afterwards either.

Cloud sat on the toilet, motionless. Tifa frowned. He had either developed a sudden case of deafness, or didn't understand her words. When Tifa stepped closer, he jerked away from her. "No. Don't touch me."

His words only made Tifa's frown deepen, and wrinkles appeared on her forehead, which her friends knew to interpret as a dangerous sign.

"Now what?" she snapped, grabbing the first aid kit from above the medicine cabinet. "I don't know what your problem is, mister, but I'm trying to help you here! If you want to bust that leg of yours forever, then I suggest you leave right now!"

But, her outburst didn't quite receive the result she'd hoped for. Instead of obeying her voice, which people usually did when she got mad, he just stared at her, his face completely neutral. And, in turn, his reaction made her feel foolish. Unable to take the staring contest anymore, she just sat down before him and yanked the leg of his pants upwards, grumbling to herself. He tried to yank away but there was no room.

She nearly whistled when she saw his knee. It was all purple with bruising and the swelling was really, _really_ bad. During her many years of martial arts, she'd seen a lot of twists, sprains and swollen ankles but this was totally something else. It was like someone had smacked his leg with a steel pipe with the objective of busting his kneecap. Even though the perpetrator hadn't quite succeeded with his intentions, you had to give him credit for his hard effort.

Tifa glanced up at Cloud. There was nothing on his face as he regarded the injury with cool eyes.

"… I can't believe you actually walked with this leg…" Tifa said finally.

"I don't want your help," was the gruff reply and Tifa resisted rolling her eyes. But it seemed to be true, judging from the way he seemed to jump at her every touch. He reminded her more and more of a wild animal with every minute.

"Hmph. Apology accepted," she sneered lightly as the splint was just a few finishing touches away from done, "Besides, who needs two sinks anyway? The one in the kitchen works just fine." Maybe her positive outlook in life would rub off on him as well. She doubted it.

She stood up, inspecting her work. Her hands went to her hips.

"How's that?" She even offered him her hand, which he of course swatted away rudely. Well, at least she tried…

Supporting himself against the wall, Cloud rose from the seat slowly. He blinked, but that was the only acknowledgement Tifa got for her effort. She shook her head at him, but it was mainly to cover up her smile.

It seemed like her heart hadn't forgotten all about how to become happy about helping someone, and she was glad to notice it. It meant that parts of her had stayed resilient to the cold realism of this place and even if Cloud refused to thank her for all the trouble it didn't stop her from feeling pleased with herself and her work.

She was still the old Tifa with a heart big enough to take in a stray.

It was too bad she had no idea of what was still about to come.

* * *

AN: While this is so not the point, I have no idea how well an unconscious person can control their bladder... but I'm going to use my favourite excuse and say that hey, this is fanfiction after all. Anyway, thanks for reading, peeps. Feedback is very much appreciated!


	2. Hurt

AN: Hello guys and gals, I'm back. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, they inspired me to get this long and problematic chapter out.

Btw, in this chapter we meet Cloud, the tampon hunter. ... and with that, 'nuff said. Oh, and those of you allergic to a bit of lemon might wanna skip the end.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Chapter two: Hurt**

Nothing but the tick-tack of the clock.

Cloud stood in front of the small window and stared outside. Behind the glass, countless street lights lit up dirty, unkempt streets lined with equally unkempt shacks that could hardly be called houses. He saw people going through piles of rubbish in search of finding items still in usable condition.

His eyes remained emotionless, but inside he regarded this miserable scenery with spiteful scorn. He had never been in the Midgar slums before, but he already detested the place. Seeing it had only confirmed his beliefs about life under the plate, as well as the people living there. They were just a bunch of useless good-for-nothings, completely unable of improving their quality of life and thus undeserving of help. Dirty, lazy, worthless.

"The very scum of humanity," he said aloud. So he had been taught, and now that he knew it was all true, how he wished not to be here to witness it with his own eyes. He turned away from the sight.

Zack had been wrong all along, though it was so like him. He was the type of person to believe in the good in people, no matter how unworthy they were otherwise. 'Love will save the day' was the type of phrase he would have liked. Zack was an idiot.

Cloud went back to sit on the couch, feeling his knee start to act up again. He shouldn't stress it with so much moving around, not yet. But he was bad at sitting down and doing nothing. Resting meant that he had time to think, and that was the last thing he wanted. He just wished he could turn off his brain somehow. Maybe it would have been better to remain unconscious. Then he wouldn't have to feel how this place made his skin crawl with detest.

He put a hand over his face. He was very tired, almost exhausted, but he refused to sleep. Sleep used to be the only place he could hide from his thoughts, but not anymore. Where as he before slept without seeing any dreams, he now saw them all the time. Nightmares - and of the kind that left you with a cold sweat and hovered in your sub consciousness for the rest of the day. But, at some point, he would just pass out despite all his effort. He was terribly weak, and it wasn't just because of the injuries.

It had been too long since the last shot. It wouldn't take long for the withdrawals to really kick in. But this was just the overture to what would be… well, he really didn't know. They must have tested what happened after stopping the treatment completely, but he had never been told the results.

Never mind that. He would just have to find out… but where was that woman? He couldn't go to sleep before she came home. It wasn't because of some need for her presence, but merely because he wished to maintain his grasp on reality to his utmost ability and that included his sense of time. Under the plate, in the unending darkness, it was incredibly difficult to discern whether it was even day or night. The clock helped, but with the amounts of time he spent just sleeping, it was impossible to keep on track. His only clue was Tifa Lockhart's daily schedule.

Every day, she got up around noon and spent the afternoon running errands or – like she said it – keeping him company. To him, it was more like keeping an eye on him. Then she would leave for work around six o'clock, where ever it was that she worked, and return late at night.

For the four days that Cloud had been awake, he had tried to keep tab of Tifa's movements and decipher if she was a threat or not. He admitted her repetitive routines did reduce his suspicions of her, but it didn't mean he trusted this woman he was temporarily living with. And he certainly did not understand her.

Why on earth would she decide to pick him up from the street and take him in? What could she possibly gain from this, if she wasn't one of them?

She couldn't expect him to pay for her help, could she? … Though, she was from the slums – and slum people didn't do charity. His brow furrowed. Oh yeah. There was that thing too. The woman could be considering selling him into one of those… those… _full service_ hotels that he knew were a big business down here. The main merchandise in those places was women, but just like there were all kinds of people, there were all kinds of preferences as well. But, then she probably wouldn't be keeping him here because every day he got stronger and could soon overpower her if she tried anything funny.

Still, they were all just possibilities. Cloud couldn't figure out the truth, and it vexed him. Every day he spent just waiting for her to make a mistake, slip out her true identity, his anxiety grew.

About half an hour later, the Lockhart woman returned.

"I'm back…" she flipped on the light, "What are you sitting here in the dark for? It's depressing."

The artificial brightness made Cloud frown, and he didn't care to answer such a trivial question. Light or dark, it did not matter although he preferred the dimness since it prevented anyone from watching them from the outside and all the while remaining unseen.

Tifa, seemingly not bothered by his gloomy silence, breezed past him into the kitchen humming as she went. She did that a lot, he had noticed. It was another habit he couldn't quite figure out, but it felt familiar from before. From a time he couldn't quite recall.

"Guess what," her voice came from the kitchen accompanied by rustling of bags and the rattle of cupboards being opened, "I actually got my hands on some fresh vegetables today - although I did have to fight for them… great, huh?" Her voice sounded very light, almost airy, and the words came out in a fast but relaxed rhythm that, in some sense, reminded Cloud of running or jumping… He shook his head in annoyance, irked at himself for being so interested in her antics and yet understanding nothing.

No, he corrected himself, it was not her doings what mattered to him, but _why_ she did them.

The soft humming continued, and Cloud's eyelids started to droop even though he fought to keep them open. He really shouldn't stay here. His game would be over if he remained in one place for too long – it was the common rule, one that you were supposed to know in your dreams. But, for the moment, there were no other choices. He'd just have to keep living with this weird woman, even under the threat of her being the enemy all along.

Slowly, sleep overcame him in its usual way and he drifted off with his last thought considering the fact that he had to know more about this Tifa Lockhart woman. After all, every move had to be founded on correct information.

_xxx_

When he woke up, the floor lamp next to the leather armchair was on. It gave a pleasant, warm light unlike the usual cheap bulbs. Cloud's body felt oddly warm, and a quick glance revealed that he was covered by a fleece comforter. The last that he remembered, it had been neatly folded over the backrest of the couch.

Cloud pushed himself to sit up, placing his feet on the floor. Tifa, who was curled up in the armchair sideways with her legs thrown over the armrest, lifted her eyes from the book she was reading. Her eyes lingered on his sleep-tangled hair, but she didn't say anything, and instead resumed reading.

It was silent again but somehow in a comfortable way. The clock ticked away and then there was the occasional rustle of the pages of Tifa's book being turned. Cloud remembered the determination he'd had just before falling asleep. There was only so much he could find out just by observing, and that certainly wasn't enough. In order to know more, he'd have to ask Tifa questions. Much like they had been taught to do back then.

But, usually interrogations happened in rooms much smaller and uncomfortable than this one, and the suspects most likely weren't seated in cozy leather-padded armchairs. Wasn't there also supposed to be that lamp which would be pointed at the suspect's face…?

Then again that kind of method would only make her suspicious…

Just as Cloud was thinking of the right way to approach her, Tifa flipped yet another page and spoke up,

"Did you sleep well? You seemed a little twitchy." She kept her eyes on the book and her voice even.

Cloud was silent. How should he answer? How should he interpret the question? And why would she be interested in that? Did it even matter? Ah, damn it. He opted for his traditional way of replying,

"I don't know."

"Okay," said Tifa and sighed.

Cloud was yet again struck with uncertainty. Why did she sigh? What did it mean? He tried desperately to answer the questions in his head but it was futile. He looked at his hands. Deciding how to proceed was incredibly difficult for him. It was probably the reason why he had never been able to reach the same level as Zack, no matter how hard the idiot tried to cheer him on. He lacked the necessary confidence, and thus, could never demand authority that was vital if you wanted to do your job and do it well.

Eventually, after minutes and minutes of quietness, he made up his mind. He had to start somewhere and the situation at hand seemed good enough. Unsure, he cleared his throat, "…What… what are you reading?"

Immediately, Tifa's eyes flashed to him. It was the first time he showed any interest in her. Up until now he had refused to initiate conversation of any kind, and he answered only about half of her questions. He never spoke unless it was absolutely necessary. The only thing Tifa knew about him was his supposed name and she had quickly given up on knowing more when she saw how reluctant he was to discuss anything related to himself.

But this might just be her chance.

Unaware of the rather similar thoughts circling in Cloud's mind, Tifa shifted in her seat, trying to look like she wasn't excited or overly interested,

"Oh, this? It's just an old picture book…" She explained, feeling a little sheepish that she couldn't have chosen some other book – one that had actual writing. She must have seemed like a little kid.

Cloud turned to look at her, and Tifa nearly flinched when she met his eyes. His eyes never showed emotion and after a certain amount of time Tifa always had to avert her gaze. He clearly wasn't aware that it was impolite and disconcerting to stare for so long. Even more so when he had that habit of being stubbornly quiet.

Tifa wondered if she was supposed to go back to reading now.

Well, what the hell. There was no harm in trying.

"Do you want to take a look?" she asked, voice showing a bit of encouraging warmth even though she knew it had no effect on him.

Cloud blinked, was silent for a moment, and then gave a timid nod of his head. As she stood up, she couldn't help the smile that broke out on her features. After all, she was curious person and he was a mystery.

With a little bit of hesitation, Cloud scooted towards the other end of the couch to give room for Tifa when she walked over. She sat down next to him, crossing her legs under her and leaving a good ten inch gap between them.

"Here," she handed him the book. "It's a travel book, but there are a few pages of my home place. It's called Nibelheim." Her smile turned a touch affectionate when she said the name out loud. She did love that town.

Cloud accepted the book and started leafing through, feeling very uncomfortable and tense with Tifa sitting at such a close distance from him. Just as expected, the book had pictures of famous or otherwise interesting places to sightsee. Many of them rang a weak bell in Cloud's head, but his memory was fuzzed. Maybe he had been there; maybe he had seen those places in books like these. It was impossible to tell.

He finally found the part about Nibelheim. It was a little town at the foot of a looming, dark mountain. It made a bare and austere scene and yet was somehow very beautiful. One shot was taken during sunset, when all the houses were outlined in rich gold and yellow shades, and one picture showed a snow covered forest with trees stripped naked from their leaves, almost black against the white background.

Something opened up in him, like a hole or a wound, because suddenly there was a terrifying feeling inside him and he didn't know what to make of it. Confused, he tried changing his posture to see if his wounds had opened up, but they seemed to be alright. Still, it hurt like someone was tearing his heart out of his chest. Weird.

No, he recalled feeling something similar before… His troop had gotten attacked by monsters, yeah, they were all still a bunch of novices back then and he, he'd been acting like a god damn hero and got himself mauled in the process.

He remembered the absolute horror he had felt when he realized that the bloody mess of shredded tissue and muscle that was his arm might not be fixed, and that he could lose the whole limb. He had almost passed out that time too, because he couldn't imagine living, he couldn't imagine functioning properly without that arm… He couldn't imagine losing it.

And now he felt like he was about to lose something else, something very dear, something irreplaceable – he just didn't know what it was.

"Pretty, huh?" said Tifa, and broke his train of thought. He was actually quite grateful for it. The brunette, oblivious to what was going on inside his head, continued,

"As you can see, it's nothing impressive… Back in the day, we didn't have any luxuries and nobody cared to visit because it was such a backwards town, but all that changed when the reactor was built…"

If Tifa hadn't been watching Cloud so closely she would have missed how he reacted to her words. It was all so minor, almost impossible to recognize, but for a second there was shock on his face; he nearly blinked, his jaw clenched and his knuckles turned momentarily white when he gripped the book so hard.

He swallowed, "… Reactor?"

"Uh, yeah," Tifa confirmed, a little nervous. "Fortunately, there aren't any pictures of it here… though, who would even want to shoot such an ugly sight…"

But, it seemed Cloud wasn't listening; his eyes were focused on the opposite wall, and the look on his face was far-off, unreachable… Tifa blinked. For a moment there, she had though his eyes looked… well, haunted….

"Guess what, Cloud!" she suddenly chirped and stole the book from his hands, startling the blond, "I'm in this book too!"

Puzzled, he turned to look at her, and Tifa forced herself to grin so wide that her face started to hurt. But, in her mind, she was happy that his eyes had gone back to normal… or whatever their usual state was. She'd take anything over that complete desperation that seemed to have overtaken him. It was impossible to tell whether or not it was her words that had triggered such a reaction, or if he had simply thought of something disturbing.

Busily feigning nonchalance, Tifa leafed through the book until she found the right place.

"Bingo!" she exclaimed offered the book for Cloud to look.

"He he, don't I look sassy in that cowgirl attire?" she laughed and shook her head at the ridiculous outfit. What did Nibelheim and raising cattle have in common anyway? But, even though she wouldn't wear something like that anymore, it had brought out the better parts of her youthful body. She looked pretty cute.

Cloud, on the other hand, had returned back into his emotionless state and refused to comment. He signaled with a nod that he was done inspecting the book, and Tifa rose up to put it away.

"I was a local guide back then," she explained even though Cloud most likely couldn't care less.

She stood before the bookshelf, fingers still lingering on the back of the picture book.

"If," she started, not making eye contact, "if you're interested, you can read these books if you want to… After all, it must be pretty boring being around here all day…" For some reason, she felt that it would be too lonely to go back to their usual silence.

"No. It'll only give me a headache," Cloud replied in a dull voice that completely lacked the friendliness that had warmed hers. Tifa blinked, a touch disappointed.

"Oh. Never mind then," she said when she sat down in the armchair once again and began to play with her hair.

Cloud was staring into empty space, lifeless. He, too, looked somewhat resigned…

Tifa, realizing that this was going to be completely pointless, spoke up despite herself, "I… I do want to help you, Cloud. I know that I haven't been able to do much, but why else would I have brought you here? If you'll just give me a name I promise I'll try to find them, no matter who they are and what it takes to make contact…"

Her words were weak, almost trembling as she searched for confidence.

"If caring for you like this is the only thing I can do, the only thing I'm capable of, it's just simply not enough… I know this is weird since you don't know me and I definitely don't know you, but if I just stop now, give up, it'll all feel so meaningless…" She was already rambling, not making any sense, but when the lid to her feelings was opened, it was hard to cover them up again.

Cloud was looking at her, confusion showing clearly on his face.

'_Poor guy'_, thought Tifa in a remote part of her mind, _'he probably doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about…'_

But she went on,

"So… If there's anything I can do for you, just tell me… It doesn't have to be anything big, if you're scared of being indebted to me… but, for example, those bad dreams of yours, maybe you could get rid of them if you tried talking about them. I remember when I was little and had a bad dream, I used to tell my mom about it, and whatever it was that was bugging me went away."

For all the tentativeness of the words tumbling down from her tongue, they rang even more true. She hoped… no, she _wanted_ to believe she could somehow help this man, make a difference, have an impact. True, he had never particularly asked for her help but if he just wanted to be left on the streets to die, he would have disappeared already. Since this hadn't happened yet, Tifa chose to take it as a sign of his will to live on. It was clear that he'd gone through some pretty messed up stuff in his previous life, it showed in everything he did or said – or didn't say – but he seemed to have some purpose in his life left intact… Or so Tifa liked to think.

The answer to whether or not he would ever confirm her beliefs was clear. It was also clear that Tifa was wasting her time… but just like she had said, giving up on him now would really make all her efforts until now futile and meaningless. So, until the very moment he stepped over her threshold and into the outside world, she would feel responsible and obliged to ask, no matter how many times, if there was something she could do.

As her thoughts came to this conclusion her resolution began to strengthen and the uncertainty she'd felt when she began speaking about this, slowly dissolved. Just why she felt so strongly about this was hard to decipher and she couldn't quite make out if the reason lied within Cloud or herself. If it was for someone else, would she have bothered? What was it that made this guy special?

Cloud, after taking a long while to digest her words and to try to understand if there was some special meaning to this, finally removed his eyes from her. He shook his head and quietly said, "It doesn't concern you. The dreams."

"I see," Tifa replied as she leaned into the chair. She couldn't quite bring herself to feel bad, though. Maybe it was because she had now decided that there would be a second time or several times, and that she would ask again. "But, just so you know, I'll be here. I'll listen."

She kept her eyes resolutely on Clouds face with the shadow of a warm smile hanging on her lips until the blond turned his head, ever so slightly, and met her gaze. And he held it for a good twenty seconds, until he just as slightly gave a small nod of understanding.

_xxx_

Two days later, Cloud finally felt strong enough to start snooping around in Tifa's apartment. He pretended to be asleep when she was leaving for work, waited for about fifteen minutes after she had gone, and then got up.

The logical place to start was her bedroom, where he went through all of her papers and personal belongings, trying to find… well, anything that could have connected her with the people probably after him.

Afterwards, he took his time to carefully put everything in order – which turned out to be a somewhat uncomfortable task when he was, in the name of thoroughness, digging around in her underwear drawer. That particular night, when Tifa came home, Cloud found images of black lace flashing through his mind whenever he looked at Tifa. Needless to say, he pretended to go to sleep a lot earlier than he usually would and said he didn't have an appetite when she offered him food.

But, regardless of his meticulous efforts, his every search turned out without any results. The only thing worth mentioning were the weird, short slim cotton tubes that he found in Tifa's bathroom which he discovered to have tremendous fluid absorption capacity. The only use for the little objects he could think of was stuffing them up his nostrils in order to block a nosebleed.

It was a mystery Cloud Strife couldn't bring himself to solve.

_xxx_

Tifa bumped the door open with her hip and after tucking her head in, she slipped through the narrow gap she had made for herself. Careful not to make any sound, she wriggled her boots off and tiptoed into the apartment. Naturally, she had to pass through the living room space and make a little detour around the couch on which a dark bump lied with a blanket thrown over his head.

She smiled faintly when she paused to take a peek at his face, which was almost completely hidden. Cloud was curled up in a ball with his knees drawn to his chest – he slept like a little kid. When she was sure she hadn't disturbed him, she continued into her bedroom to throw down her purse and jacket.

It was about three in the morning, and she had just come from work. The night had been busy, and the stress had left its mark as a steady ache in her sore shoulders. Physically, she was just about tired enough to drop dead, but her mind kept going in circles, refusing to settle down. Knowing that sleep would be unattainable right now, she didn't even care to bother turning in just to toss around and make the bed creak horribly. Stupid, crap mattress.

So, instead she resorted to what she had found herself doing these last few nights, and grabbed the book she was currently reading and sat down under the living room window, where there was just enough light coming from outside to make out the text without squinting her eyes too much.

There she sat, her reading accompanied only by the calming sound of Cloud's breathing. It had become sort of a guilty pleasure, and not just when she had trouble falling asleep. She could watch him for long periods of time in one go, and never grow tired. It sounded ridiculous and terribly cliché, but there was just… something about him.

Over the last few days they had become, if just for a fraction, a little more comfortable with each other. Of course, getting Cloud to talk was still close to mission impossible, but Tifa sensed that the hostility which he had been regarding her with had faded out to some point. It could be said that they were getting used to each other.

He still refused her repeated offers to help in any way she could.

Tifa turned another page and readjusted her position on the floor, just as she saw him twitch. Immediately, she dropped the book to rest on her lap and kept her eyes on Cloud. This happened often, too. Well, often was an understatement as it was rarer for him to sleep peacefully than to twist and turn around restlessly – like he was just about to do now.

Apparently, he was having nightmares. Tifa found them sort of disturbing. She too had had her share of nightmares bad enough to haunt her thorough all of the following day, but hers had never been so… Well, 'violent' was the first word to come in mind.

Tifa got to her feet and padded noiselessly towards the couch. Cloud's face was already in a twisted grimace, and the vivid movement of his eyes could be seen through his eyelids.

With a deep grunt, he tossed around once more, nearly falling off the couch. His fingers twitched and grabbed onto the blanket, twisting furiously. Again, he rolled onto his other side, legs kicking. Suddenly, his hand shot up into the air as an unconscious attempt at striking someone.

Tifa noticed his breathing was haggard like he was really out of breath, and that was when he, just as suddenly as he'd started moving, became absolutely still.

Only his lips moved and he whispered, like countless times before, something incomprehensible. The only words Tifa could make out were 'Number' and then 'Thirteen'. She didn't have the faintest clue what they meant.

Cloud was motionless for a further thirty seconds, until he started choking himself with full force.

Like, seriously, choking his own neck with a vicious knuckle-whitening grip. Tifa's eyes widened as she listened in slow motion as his breath got caught up and turned into horrible croaks and whimpers, but still he wouldn't loosen his unconscious grip. His body kept trashing, and Tifa got the mental image he was both attacking and defending himself at the same time.

'_Oh God oh God oh God oh God'_, she repeated frantically in her mind, transfixed immobile with the incomprehensibility happening before her. _'What do I do? What the hell do I do? He's insane, he's completely bat shit, serial killer insane and he's in my house and on my couch killing himself oh my God – ' _

She screamed.

"Wake up! Please, _wake up!_" Grabbing his shuddering shoulders, her voice so shrill in her ears she barely recognized it, she begged he would open his eyes and stop this insanity. He didn't stop trashing and the pitiful sounds he made sent unwelcome chills down her spine.

He could die this way. How long had it been? How fast did suffocation kill a person? How quick did damage start happening?

There was a cacophony of panic in her head, all she saw were visions of him turning blue with his swollen, purple tongue rolling out of his mouth, his eyes glassy and dark. She started shaking him, pushing him hard into the cushions and yelling at the same time, no trace or memory of the words falling out of her suddenly very dry mouth. Her fingers would no doubt leave bruise marks in his skin. She even slapped him.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the episode was over. Tifa was diving headfirst into the ocean of his now open eyes and felt relief surge in her waves, so exhausted and so happy at the same time. It was over. Whatever it had been, it was now over.

She opened her mouth to exhale the fear from her system when a shock wave hit her. Then she flew backwards through the room, weightless like one of the ragdolls she used to play with.

It all happened so fast she couldn't keep up.

She crashed into the wall with so much force she blacked out for a split second. The wind was knocked out from her lungs and there was a disgusting thump when her head hit the wall as well. Adrenaline rushed in, and at first everything was a mixture of both it and the shock wearing off, the room distorted into weird shapes and spun around her, but then the pain in her chest exploded. She gasped and fought for air but broke down in agonizing coughs, the taste of blood rising into her mouth and she had the urge to vomit.

Adrenaline could keep her body from feeling the impact for only so long. All at once, there was pain everywhere and she slumped down to the floor, every muscle incapable of holding her up. She began to curl into a ball, subconsciously trying to shield herself from further injury, but then something that felt like hot iron closed around her throat, crushing painfully against her windpipe.

That same something tore her from the floor back against the wall, and Tifa's rapidly darkening eyes saw something blue and glowing swim across her vision. Eyes as hard as diamonds.

No. It wasn't Cloud that choked her, it wasn't him that watched her writhe and struggle effortlessly. It wasn't human. It was a monster, a beast, a machine.

A realization occurred to her, something similar to what she had thought just moments ago but this time it went, _'I will die. I will definitely die now.'_

Soon her brain would be cut from oxygen and she would sink into a dimness there wouldn't be any waking from. She knew how it would go, it was surprisingly clear – as if in contrast to the madness inside this room. She didn't know how long it took for a corpse to start to decay, but she imagined her neighbor would be the one to discover her when this was over. He would also find her parent's information and maybe let them know of their daughters prematurely death… but that would be it. No headlines would be written of the mysterious murder of a woman, no police inspection would be made, and no charges would be pressed.

It wasn't pretty, but that was how it went in the slums. Tifa Lockhart would simply cease existing and be forgotten soon after.

She didn't want it. She didn't want her fate to be like that. She didn't want to die.

Instincts kicked in. It was her fear of dying and the raw, primitive need to survive that somehow got her limp arms to rise and fingers to clasp onto the hands around her throat. Her eyes watered of sheer effort, but she focused all her strength and willpower into freeing herself from his suffocating grasp.

Tifa found she couldn't break off his hold. For an instant, she was too surprised to stay afraid. Even with her martial artist's strength, something that had snapped a bone before, she couldn't twist Cloud's arm enough to make him let go. Years and years of training and practicing the art of self defense were useless. The hold he had on her was too strong, too strong for a human being; she was battling a demon…

She was helpless against him. The sensation was completely new to her. She had always been able to take care of herself.

Desperate, she tried clawing at him. Her feet were pushing her further away from him but the wall blocked her way and there was no way to go. Hot tears ran down her cheeks and there was nothing else left for her but to stare back at her attacker through her rapidly blurring vision.

His eyes were steel without a single trace of remorse or hesitating and she had never been so scared in her life. It was the most horrible feeling to realize this was serious and that this was happening. To her.

Her lungs burned in need of air and her head was becoming dizzy. He looked feral, his breath heavy and hot with the urge to kill, his whole being bursting with uncontrollable violence and rage. What she saw before her was the animal in people, the cruel beast that hibernated within every soul. He wasn't Cloud anymore, he was something ugly and dark and diseased.

She couldn't feel the pain anymore. It was starting to fade away along with her consciousness. Her panic as well was diminishing, she was ready to give up now, if not for anything else but for the sake of getting away from this monster. She didn't want to see it anymore, it made her ache inside, and she didn't want to see how he was less and less a human and more of an animal.

A thought lingered. Her damn curiosity. To think it would still raise its head at a moment like this; at a moment that would, in all likelihood, be her last.

What had made him into this?

Her strength ran out and her head slumped. There was no mysterious light, nor darkness. There were no images of her life so far flashing in front of her. Dying was a lot like going to sleep. Yes, she wanted to sleep. She was very tired.

As her grasp loosened her fingers brushed against the very hands that were killing her. There was something very gentle in that unconscious move. She didn't plea or beg. She was already falling away.

Cloud snapped out of it.

Just like that, he was back to himself. The purple haze subsided and he was able to see what he was doing. In a fraction of a second, his eyes registered what was happening. There was a distant feeling of terror – he had killed someone.

He had killed someone innocent. Someone who had nothing to do with him, with them. _Again._

He jerked away from her as if her skin burned his hands. Now, with nothing to support her, Tifa's body slumped, quite unceremoniously, to the floor. Cloud watched, frozen. Then his chest started to hurt and he knew he was very close to having a heart attack. He really should lie down, but he couldn't. He could only stare at that unmoving bundle that had, mere seconds ago, been a living and breathing woman named Tifa Lockhart.

As the poison in his blood went back to slumber, the rest of his system was left to cope with the aftereffects. That insane strength always had its consequences. His muscles cramped and he was on the verge of passing out but he resisted. Somehow, the physical strain his body was going through was nothing compared to the strange vacuity he felt.

Was this guilt? Was this regret? Was he even capable of those?

When he was still there, it would be right about now that the staff rushed in and gave him another injection to prevent organ failure which was always a possibility no matter how strong he was. Maybe it would kill him this time, though. It didn't seem like such a bad option.

He sat on the floor, hands between his knees and looked at her. How many times had this happened? He couldn't remember – but there was something familiar about this emptiness inside of him. The first time around he hadn't wanted to do it, he had fought against it but there was no resisting what came from inside him. There was still something very, very wrong about this.

He sighed when the pressing feeling in his chest went away. It seemed his body had overcome the shock after all. Humans were incredible creatures. Just like that man had said.

Then, something he didn't expect happened.

Tifa started coughing, desperately trying to breathe again. Air entered her lungs and it hurt tremendously. She whimpered and squirmed and coughed again, airways finally opening up properly. For a few breaths, she just remained on the floor, completely out of it and paralyzed.

Of course, it didn't take too long for her to regain her senses and her memory. She flinched visibly and pushed herself in a sitting position. Her dark, disheveled hair fell all over her face and Cloud could see only her left eye.

She stared at the man sitting a few feet away from her. The usually soft glow of her wine colored eyes was now a hard glint. Just a moment ago, he had killed her. He had _meant_ to kill her.

Shaking, she rose to her wobbly, weak feet, supporting herself against t he wall. She was still looking at him, expecting something, counting her chances if he were to attack again. There was terror and hate in her eyes. And of course, the deep confusion. It was impossible for her to understand why this had happened; why had her life been threatened so suddenly when only moments ago everything had been calm and normal. Then, she started inching herself towards the bathroom, not taking her eyes off him.

She was waiting for him to lunge again and finish what he started.

But he never moved. He let her go and slam the bathroom door behind her.

_xxx_

The water was running as it had for the last forty minutes or so, the steady sound of it constantly broken by splashing against the walls of the bath tub.

Cloud stood in front of the door, his hand raised into a knock that never really made it there.

He wanted to somehow clear this up, explain, but he didn't know how. He didn't even know why, but he needed to do it. He still felt the hate in her eyes crawl in his skin, haunt him, and it was all he could think about.

Somehow, he cared about what she thought. For some reason, he didn't want her to hate him.

That was the only sense he could make of this turmoil inside of him.

Voice of reason in him told him coldly it was no use. There was no way for her to understand something like this, there was no reason for her to _want_ to understand and listen to him. She probably just wanted him, this stranger, this monster out of her house.

Even if she had taken him in, she wouldn't believe him even if he explained it all.

He stared at the door, eyes dark, thinking about how this had come to happen.

He had been having a nightmare. No, it was more like a memory coming back to him, so vivid and alive as if it was happening all over again. Though the word 'memory' wasn't accurate either – those things had never happened in reality.

It was all in his head. After weeks and weeks another trial phase was nearing its end and the amount of injections was drastically diminished. He was left with the withdrawals when his body and mind had to suddenly do without the shots.

It was the worst part, in a way – the shots took the edge off, he spent his days in a haze and it was rare for him to feel anything which was a bliss – as his personality was being torn, part of him still that emotionless beast the poison had made him into, and another part was the real him, left to deal with his horrible experiences. And as it happened, he wasn't very good at coping with it.

'Unstable' was the nice way of calling him. He himself knew his state was somewhere near insanity. He was delusional and paranoid, aggressive and unpredictable. Anything could set off the visions and when it did, he never failed to react in a way that was nothing less than destructive. The things he saw varied, but the key part was that he felt threatened in a way and began to lash out in self-defense. He would attack in both the vision and reality, tearing apart the walls in his room… or sometimes the victim would be one of the people holding him there.

When it was over, he would snap out of it and see the blood on his hands, sometimes his own, sometimes somebody else's. He would sink into apathy and depression, he would not eat or sleep until the visions came back.

So it had happened again when he was sleeping, he was recalling one of those moments, and Tifa became one of his ghosts, a faceless enemy in a delusional world. He had ended up nearly choking her to death. He had had every intention of killing her.

It was a miracle he had snapped back to his senses as quick as he had, though it had been a very close call.

He frowned deeply.

… Fuck. He couldn't explain something like that. If he did, it would only worsen the matter – Tifa would have full proof that she was housing a madman… as if having him strangle her wasn't proof enough.

But still…

"Tifa," he said to the door. He had no words. He had no knowledge of how to deal with people.

He was blind here, and his only hope was that she somehow, by some unknown miracle, wasn't completely disgusted with him.

The silence save for the noises coming from the bathroom was pressing on him and he felt anxiety he wasn't familiar with. He really hadn't had to answer to anyone in a long, long time. His only responsibility was to himself, for the longest time his only objective had been to survive no matter how distorted and hopeless the world seemed to be around him, no matter how far the 'normal' world and his past seemed to be.

He knew himself to be a weak person, but somehow he'd managed to hold onto the memory of a better, happier time. A time when he was someone, when he had a personality, when he had a life filled with ambitions and dreams.

Cloud flinched when he heard a muffled voice come through.

"… Just… just go away." Tifa sounded weary and frail and still scared.

Cloud was struck with the impulse to go in there, to somehow explain this away, but he knew words would only betray him. Shit. It wasn't always like this, but he'd always been bad with words. So he stared at the door for a while longer until retreating back to the couch, dropping his head into his hands.

He really should have left. But he couldn't. Not until he'd at least showed her he was sorry.

Part of the feeling was simply his selfish need to reassure himself that he wasn't gone all the way, that they hadn't gotten to him completely.

He wanted to know there was still a part of him left, somewhere deep inside.

She had reminded him of it, she had seen the person in him. She had seen past the surface and recognized the broken boy in him. She had even tried to lure that boy out, she had treated him with nothing but kindness and generosity. Him, a complete stranger, a runaway bound to bring her only trouble.

Tifa probably wasn't the enemy. She was more likely just a passerby.

A gentle heart.

And he'd been way too damaged to see that.

When Tifa finally emerged from the bathroom, she was nothing like her usual self. The air around her had changed completely. Cloud thought he could smell her fear when she slinked, shoulders drooped, hands around herself as if to protect, across the room and into her bedroom.

She never looked at him, she looked at everywhere but him, but he knew she hadn't wanted to see him there. His own helplessness grated on his nerves.

How could he convince her he wasn't dangerous?

'_You can't, you can't, you can't,'_ the voice inside him said and he knew it to be true. Because he _was _dangerous. He was a time bomb without a timer. He never knew when, but he would eventually blow up. And she had no reason to have something like that under her roof.

But he still stood up and went to her door. To do what, he didn't know. Maybe say goodbye.

Without knocking, he opened the door and saw her sitting on the bed, knees drawn up to her chest. Small and fragile and something that would break at the smallest push.

She gave a visible start at the sound of the door creaking open, and at the sight of him, her eyes widened and she backed to the wall, terrified.

"Go away," she whispered, voice shaking so bad it was hard to make out the words. Cloud nearly did go then.

People had been scared of him before. If they were smart, they knew to be scared of him. But it had never aroused a feeling in his chest that was something like physical pain.

"I can't," he replied without looking at her. She whimpered, though she tried to hide it. Funny how she didn't want to appear weak in front of him, even now, when she knew how easily he could take her life.

He took a step closer and she shuddered, pressing her eyes shut so hard it formed creases on her forehead. Her hair was wet and hung to her skin. Even in the dimness of the eternal night below the plate, Cloud could see the beginnings of bruising on her slender neck.

He was nearing her bed and she was about to break down. She hid her face from view but her whole body shook and trembled with the violent fear she experienced. Cloud halted just before the edge of the mattress, and the bed creaked when she rocked herself from side to side. The sound was obscenely loud in the heavy silence of the room.

Now that he was here, he didn't know how to proceed. It was probably a mistake. He had no right. She was so scared he thought she could shatter into pieces.

"I…" he started, blinking hard. "I wasn't always… like this. I'm sor – "

Tifa began to cry. Her sobs were loud and hard and she had to gasp for air and no matter how she wiped her eyes with her fists, tears kept streaming down her cheeks and clung to her lashes in shiny beads.

When her face tilted upwards in an attempt to take a breath, Cloud did something without thinking.

As it happened, it was also the worst thing he could have done.

He bent down to kiss her.

Or, mis-kiss her. His lips barely grazed the corner of her mouth in a sloppy try.

There was a moment when everything seemed frozen still. Cloud in his half-bent posture, Tifa's eyes opened as wide as possible, the spot where his lips touched tingling with warmth.

Then, Tifa shot up with anger and shock acting as her fuel and shoved him so hard he stumbled backwards. She swung her fist at him blindly, surprised in a remote part of her mind that she actually managed to hit him. He stumbled again, holding a hand to his ear where the punch had landed. Otherwise, he didn't react.

Tifa raised her fist to hit him again, not even realizing her knuckles hurt badly.

"Why?" she wailed, her voice screechy and shrill with everything that was going through her. "Why would you do that? Why!"

Cloud couldn't answer. He just stared back at her with his blue eyes, so amazing and beautiful and enthralling she had never seen anything like it.

She sobbed. Then, she covered her eyes and cried. Cried like a little kid, out loud, hard and painful, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes but it was in vain. She couldn't stop. It was all coming out in one big rush she had no control over. She had never cried like that in her adult life. Nothing had even come close.

Cloud was too terrified of her tears to touch her again. He didn't know what to do.

Maybe he should leave her alone. Maybe he should comfort her.

He had no freaking clue whatsoever. He didn't know people. It wasn't his fault, but knowing that didn't do shit to help him.

"I'm gonna go," he decided finally, after what felt like an eternity. He had hoped she would somehow miraculously stop crying, but when it didn't happen, he thought he couldn't take it anymore.

It felt bad. To see her cry like that. Because of him.

Cloud turned to leave, but then her fingers grabbed his collar, pulling with all their might. He thought she was going to hit him again, but the unexpected happened; this time it was she who kissed him. She did it better. Their lips met all the way, collided rather brusquely, and his eyes were open but so were hers. Her ruby orbs glistened, moist, and he couldn't help but stare back into them.

He saw desperation.

But she was kissing him and pulling him down. He didn't resist, but he didn't move either. The kiss seemed to go on forever until she broke away, letting go of him and wiping her mouth in a spiteful manner.

"Then go," she whispered in a husky, breathless voice. Their eyes remained in contact.

"Go," said Tifa.

But he never did.

_xxx_

When he walked over, he thought for a second she was going to burst out in tears again. But she didn't, nor did she lash out at him anymore. Her lips trembled when she spread her arms and pulled him to her. His breath got stuck in his throat as she sat down on the edge of the mattress and pressed her face against his stomach.

Suddenly, he was very aware of her mouth hovering above his skin. His every sense screamed at him. This was bad. Somehow, he knew it was wrong for it to happen this way.

But, he wanted her.

He was surprised how natural and easy it felt to have his instincts surface. All it needed was the sensation of skin on skin. Tifa lifted the hem of his shirt, then her fingers went to unbuckle his belt. It wasn't so strange anymore. He tugged his shirt off and discarded it on the floor.

Cloud was half naked now and Tifa in an old t-shirt and underwear. For the first time, he took notice of her legs and how the shirt hung loosely on her, not really covering the shape of her curves.

It had been a very long time, but it was all coming back to him. Tifa's cheeks and lips brushed his skin and her hands went around his waist, fingertips studying the nubs of his spine. He was breathing hard when he leaned down, shoulders to her shoulders and chest to her chest, placing his hands next to her on the mattress. It creaked with his weight and echoed like a howl in their ears.

His face inched up the length of her neck, just above it, drinking in her scent but not touching the injured skin. He took one tentative hand to brush her hair to the side and then pulled it away. He wasn't afraid of the real act, but he was afraid of being gentle, of real intimacy between people.

Tifa's arms were around him but apart from that, she remained motionless. She was tense, goose bumps on her skin, eyes pinched shut. Cloud sensed her fear, even now.

But he wanted to be good to her. He really did.

It took a lot of courage, but he finally was brave enough to put his palm on her chest, over her heart. He felt it beat frantically, the pulse only growing more rapid with his lingering touch.

He didn't know the right words to relieve her.

He didn't know any other way to make her feel good.

As lightly as he could, he pushed her down to the mattress by the shoulder. She resisted for a second before giving in and lying down, head turned to the side. His hand traveled down the length of her body and the only thing between her and his fingers was the soft fabric of her shirt.

Slowly, Cloud climbed on top of the bed, aiming to settle his frame next to her, but the mattress wasn't wide enough. She turned on her side and he did the same, lying down between the wall and her. As he looked for the right position, the mattress dipped with his weight slightly and Tifa slid back against him unintentionally. With her back to him, he couldn't see the look on her face.

Not that he could understand it anyway.

He put his arm over her, fingers brushing languidly along the underside of Tifa's arm, from her elbow to her wrist and back again. Otherwise, he just lied there with his breath in her neck. Her hair tickled his nose but he closed his eyes and concentrated on how her body felt, pressed into the cocoon his own frame formed around her.

Her breathing had been restrained, forced even, but after a while of nothing more than the feel of his fingers brushing her arm, a sensation both ticklish and soothing, her chest now rose in a more natural rhythm. Her back, too, rigid and taut against him, relaxed gradually. Somehow, Cloud knew that if he were to peek at her face, he'd find her eyes shut, ready to fall asleep.

Perhaps, she had managed to forget it was him, forget how terrified she had been, and could now indulge herself in just the sensation alone.

Cloud leaned closer and set his palm on her stomach, fingers spread, rubbing lightly. The added pressure made her stir a little, and a tremble traveled through her body when his hand went under her shirt, finding its way to the curve of her waist and following it upwards. He reveled silently in the way she felt under his palm.

His hand moved to her hip, over the bones of her pelvis, down to her thigh. He dragged it up and down the length of her leg, listening to the way her breathing hardened, then hitched as his fingers slipped between her thighs. He kept it there, pressed tightly into the trap of her legs, warm and inviting.

Then, she turned on her back, hand moving to close on top of his and guiding it to caress her more intimately, to feel her where she wanted him to. He removed her underwear and touched her, carefully at first, nervous even and watching her expression closely. Her eyes were closed, a tiny crease between her eyebrows hinting she was still forcing herself to stay calm. But she parted her legs to allow him better access, and he added a little more pressure, parting her folds to feel her entrance with the tips of his fingers.

She gasped a little, and he nearly groaned, barely able to contain his growing excitement. His pants were suddenly way too tight around the crotch. He rubbed her entrance slowly, placing his thumb on her most sensitive nub before slipping two fingers inside her, carefully, one digit at a time. He explored her further; she was tight and hot and every movement of his hand made her grow wet more rapidly. This time, he couldn't keep the noises inside him as his fingers went even deeper into her pressing embrace, the painful pleasure making him go crazy if he didn't have her soon.

There was a slight tint of red to her cheeks, her lips parted to make way for her hard breaths. Lost in the sweet sensations his touches were rousing in her, her face was completely relaxed now, as if having completely forgotten it was he who lied on top of her, he who had just moments ago touched her with a very different intent. As the waves of pleasure built up into vibrations intensifying with every slow slide his fingers made inside her, a soft moan escaped her, she grabbed the sheets and by instinct and lifted her hips to press herself into his palm, demanding him to take her to the end.

She was unbearably close already, but it was getting unbearable for him as well. With a weary breath he pulled his now moist hand away and her hazy eyes opened up in disappointment. She then felt his very obvious arousal against her thigh, throbbing in very clear demands. With hands shivering ever-so-slightly, her strength almost completely gone, she pulled down his zipper which relieved only a minor part of the pressure he felt, and closed her fingers around him.

He almost collapsed there and then. It was a miracle his arms didn't give out. It was even more excruciating as she maneuvered gently around him, pushing his boxers out of the way and brushing his soft wool.

Unable to hold his head up, he leaned his forehead against hers.

"… Is it… okay…." was all he managed to say. But she got it.

His only response was a timid but nevertheless certain nod. He set his knee between hers, parting her legs impatiently and moved to meet her, her hand once again guiding him all the way. As he brushed against her, barely touching but the sensation of first contact more fierce than ever expected, he started shaking violently. They both did.

"Ah…" she breathed, spreading even wider, and his hand went to the small of her back to lift her up just as he found his way inside.

He started in slow thrusts, nothing too rough, just getting accustomed to what it was like to melt against each other. But it was good. He let his head rest on her forehead, breaths mingling and bodies becoming slick with sweat.

It was just what every first time was like with a new person; awkward and at times, complicated, even more so as they were strangers to each other. He didn't know where to put his hands, she wasn't brave enough to wrap her legs around him even if it was how she liked it, and neither wasn't sure of what the other one was comfortable with so they ended up settling for the most conventional way; straight-up missionary style screwing. There was the matter of Cloud's injuries as well, and he kept hissing every time there was pressure on his wounds. And so every other sound from him was a groan of pleasure, and the next one was another sharp hiss as having sex was not one of those things a man in his condition should have been doing.

But then again, having sex was exactly what they both needed the most.

With the extreme lack of familiarity they suffered it took some time to find the right positions and settle into a pace that satisfied both, but finally the immediate tension although lost in the beginning but successfully gained back, began to fade away. Now, they concentrated on each other and how the pleasure became to build up again, inflicting another kind of tension, this time in the form of excitement and sexual voltage.

Slowing down from time to time and then picking up the pace again Cloud felt himself grow closer to the edge, even more so when her inner muscles contracted around him, tighter and tighter, her whole body becoming tense and rigid, an overture to her finale. She stopped following his movements, bit her lip, so, so close now and he halted as well, wanting to see her expression change. Her walls pressed him tighter and tighter and it turned him on even more to see her come. Tifa grabbed his shoulders, nails digging deeply into his skin, she arched against him and a loud gasp flew from her lips as she reached her release.

She collapsed down on the mattress, panting hard, and all it took from him was one painfully slow slide deep into her and he climaxed, pulling out and spilling all of him between her sweaty legs.

When it was over, he laid on top of her for a second, unable to move right now, until the pain in his wounds stung trough the curtain of satisfaction. Tifa's face was calm and soothed as endorphins still raced in her veins, erasing the trauma of today's incidents, and she felt good, high with the drugs of her own body.

But of course, reality refused to be put on hold forever, and after a brief silence she began to cry again in quiet sobs that made the bed shake.

Then, something unexpected happened. Cloud wrapped his arms around her quivering frame and hugged her close, despite the pain that turned into fire underneath his skin, despite the uncomfortable feeling that began to well up. He had reason to be embarrassed. In a way, that one embrace was a million times more intimate than anything they'd done tonight, a million times more important.

He held her for a long time and never knew why. And yet, he knew it was right. Something told him you were supposed to hug the girl who cried in bed with you. It was… natural. Even for him.

Time passed, and they stayed like that. Cloud began to wonder if he was supposed to retreat to the couch now. When he let Tifa go, the brunette shrunk into a miserable ball and he took that as his cue to go.

But when he made to get up and start collecting his clothes, Tifa's voice came through,

"… You can stay… if you want to…."

Surprised and a little hesitant, he did so.

They settled back into the small bed, trying to stay as far as they could from the other one. It was hard to do, but somehow they managed to lie down without touching. Cloud stared at the ceiling and listened to the voices of the slums.

Eventually, Tifa's hand came to search for his. Her small hand seemed to disappear in his strong grip.

They remained awake for hours after that, but when Cloud finally fell asleep, the nightmares were gone as if blown away.

* * *

AN: ... Out of nowhere, it's a lemon scene. Uh-oh. As always, thanks for reading! Due to certain reasons, any thoughts, comments or even flames are very welcome.


	3. Past

AN: Hiya! Surprisingly enough, I'm not dead after all. So here is chapter three along with my apologies for taking so long. I know many of you were looking forward to the awkwardness of ' the morning after' but I hope this doesn't disappoint you entirely... Anyway, I'll shut up now. Thank you for the reviews and please keep on sending them!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Chapter three: Past**

Cloud wasn't there in the morning.

Without realizing, he had come to learn how to distinguish the almost imperceptive difference between night and daytime in the slums. It was a subtle change towards a more natural, softer hue in the artificial light that filtered through the blinds. It must have been the effect of day breaking above the plate, seeping through to this underworld. A few days ago, he wouldn't have been capable of noticing it.

It was time, he realized. He needed to get some answers, to find out whether or not there was a chance for him to get better. He owed it to himself to do something, to even try. And moreover – he owed it to Zack.

Maybe it wasn't over.

So he got up, slipped back into his shirt, careful not to make the tiniest noise. He lingered at the bedroom door but only for a second, long enough to steal an almost bashful peek at the girl still sleeping soundly. Suddenly he knew what he had to say, even if she couldn't hear him.

_Goodbye._

_xxx_

There wasn't much Cloud could remember from his past. Tattered fragments of memories every now and then were all he could recall.

He lived with his mother in a small, quiet town covered in snow for a full half of the year and always shadowed by a tall mountain. It was called Nibelheim. Their house stood in the outskirts of the town, waiting at the end of a long lonely road without any neighbors nearby. Much like the house they lived in, they too were outcasts in a way. They had no relatives and no real friends living in town. In fact, the only kid in town Cloud didn't exactly hate was the pretty, brown haired girl who sometimes smiled at him but that was it. And anyway, she was way popular amongst all the other kids so he never dared to talk to her. In the end, it was always just the two of them. Just Cloud and his mother.

Cloud never had a dad. As he grew up, he eventually even stopped asking about him because every reminder made his mother look sad. He also stopped telling her how the other kids called him a bastard and other hurtful names. He tried his best to cover up when he did badly at school and got into fights because he had no other way of defending himself or releasing the frustration he felt for being picked on. He had a lot of anger inside him for such a small boy. He kept saying he didn't need a father or anyone else for that matter, but the truth was he might have been just lonely.

He did have one dream, though, a dream that kept the bleakness of his everyday life from getting to him. It was an impossibly big and downright childish dream, but it carried him through every detention, it made every cut and bruise he suffered worth it.

He wanted to make it into SOLDIER. There wasn't anything else he craved so badly, anything else he was so willing to fight for. Every night he would dream of getting out of this dead town where the years blended into one and where each person to pass him by was the same. He yearned to be like the men and women of SOLDIER, strong and good, traveling all around the world to help people and fight monsters. He wanted desperately for people to respect him, for little boys much like he himself was at that time to one day look up at him with shining eyes and say, "When I grow up I wanna be just like him!"

Cloud was absolutely certain he would succeed. He didn't even consider what he would do if his dream wouldn't come true. Part of his almost foolish confidence stemmed from his mother's unwavering support. At times she loved her son perhaps a little too much, choosing to back up his infeasible plans rather than provide him with necessary realism. Cloud grew up thinking he could attain anything if he wanted it enough.

When he became old enough he wasted no time applying for the ShinRa Military Academy in Midgar from where most of the future officers in ShinRa troops graduated and proceeded into active service under the company name. It was the best and the only way, really, for a small town boy like himself without a well-known family name and no fortune to be inherited to enter the SOLDIER program. Being accepted into the Academy meant two years of boarding school in Midgar, on a whole new continent without any hopes of visiting home during the short vacations, but Cloud didn't hesitate. It was understandable since he didn't have pretty much anything to hold him back.

Finally, in the summer of his fourteenth year, the letter of acceptance arrived and offered Cloud a one-way ticket out of Nibelheim. He would be enrolling into ShinRa Military Academy in the fall and it looked like his lifelong dream was becoming reality. About to turn fourteen years old, Cloud Strife left for the city of Midgar. He told his mother not to worry but he also told her he wouldn't call or write. He wanted her to know he had made it when his picture was in the newspapers all across the planet. He was still certain he was just a few years away from attaining his fate as a member of SOLDIER First Class - and for the first time in his life, he felt he had a purpose. He was happy and not just a scrawny, unpopular boy trying to get by in a place he didn't really fit in.

He arrived in Midgar after a long and tiring trip. Everything he saw was new and exciting and shiny. He had never been out of his hometown and the life, all the lights, noises and smells and sights of the great city mesmerized him. The city was moving and changing, buildings tall enough to reach the sky rising all around him. He thought he could feel the pavement tremble under his feet as the city breathed. He felt there was life in this place as if the city itself was a giant living thing. He thought he had been asleep for fourteen years and that he was now finally awake.

There was so much to see and experience, things he had never even thought possible. People here lived in a different world. Their lives were made comfortable and easy by new innovations provided by ShinRa, they lived in big houses and buildings and walked on streets paved with white stones. He couldn't help but compare everything around him to the somehow petty lives of the people in his hometown. He had to wonder who could be satisfied living that way when the whole world was open.

School started. His days were dominated by training exercises; building up his speed, strength and stamina, mastering basic self defense methods and combat skills. Normal ShinRa troop protocols and procedures were pounded in the heads of hundreds of young men hoping to make a career protecting the largest company in the world. This, however, wasn't the end of what the Academy was teaching them. They were educated in basic strategy, physics and math, social studies as well as world history – but most importantly, they were trained to see the world the way the company wanted them to.

For Cloud, so impressed by this new environment, swallowing the ShinRa propaganda that everyone living under the plate or somehow dissatisfied with the company's operations were simply second class as human beings, was simple. It wasn't a conscious decision, but then again he never paused to question the lies being fed to him, camouflaged as the truth about the world. He accepted without a single thought that 'privileged' or 'well off' meant 'better' or 'more deserving' than those less fortunate.

But it wasn't like everything changed in the span of a few nights. He still wasn't popular amongst his classmates and didn't make too many friends. He was much too silent and introverted and simply just so used to being alone that he didn't really know how to get along with others anymore. At first, the other boys made fun of him and his stiff country accent but soon learned that he wasn't afraid to show them with his fists what he thought of their comments, but gradually, things got better after people either left him alone or tried coming to terms with him, which mainly just meant not getting in his face. He was fine with it. After all, he wasn't there to make friends with the rich kids. He was there to become a part of SOLDIER.

But for that to happen, he first needed to get into the program. The trials for entering the SOLDIER program were held annually at ShinRa Headquarters. Students from the Academy automatically passed the first round of examinations and were delivered on there on the second or third day. From there on they had to rely on their own skill and talent. They underwent various physical and mental examinations, all especially and carefully planned to point out the necessary abilities needed for joining the extremely demanding and challenging program. SOLDIER was, after all, ShinRa's absolute elite force. Only the best of the best were good enough.

It was one week into the trials that something happened to Cloud. Something that would come to, even though he didn't know it yet, affect his life in ways he could never begin to imagine.

He had, so far, done very well in the tests. Most of the candidates had already been cut out and only those showing real promise and potential remained. It was also clear that the tests were only going to get harder and harder. From now on, it was the real deal.

All of the candidates still left stayed in the Headquarters for the whole duration of the examinations. They were provided food and rest in the actual premises of the ShinRa troops positioned in Midgar. Whatever free time they had between examinations they were advised to use wisely – which, most of the time, meant beating the life out of a punching bag in the training halls.

Cloud hadn't even heard the gym doors open when a hearty laugh entered his ears and broke his concentration.

"Sure wouldn't want to be that punching bag right now," said a voice as soon as the laughter had subsided, "you trying to kill it, kid?"

It was a boy no more than three or four years older than him with black, unruly hair, a friendly smile and the tell-tale gleam of Mako in his sky blue eyes. Cloud couldn't believe what he was seeing. Or who.

"Y-you're…" he stuttered, blinking frantically. The boy laughed once more.

"Zack, Zack Fair. SOLDIER, Second Class."

Cloud knew who he was. He had seen that very same, smiling face on the covers of news papers and magazines more and more for the past year. Zack Fair was the "rising star" of SOLDIER who had just made it into Second Class but everyone knew it was just a matter of time before he made it into First. There was also another reason as to why the media was so interested him – besides his young age - and even called him the "new face of SOLDIER". He had the talent, the looks and charisma – and when compared to the other SOLDIER members, usually rather stiff and reserved and not too eager to talk to reporters, he was truly a breath of fresh air. He was a cheerful, easy-going personality and yet it was clear he took his job very seriously. And, of course, he had that trademark smile which couldn't be anything but genuine. He was… an all around good guy.

And, in many ways, he represented everything that Cloud wished he could become. In short, Zack Fair was something of a role model to him.

That was why he had a hard time believing that _the_ Zack Fair was standing before him. He had never been much of a talker, but now he was way too astonished to utter even a single syllable.

But Zack wasn't fazed.

"So," he started conversationally, "I take it you're here for the tryouts? Since I haven't seen you before and all."

Cloud nodded his head yes in an almost desperate manner.

Zack grinned as if Cloud had cracked a joke. "I see, I see! I had no idea it was that time of the year again! Well, that sure takes me back! I came here all the time when I was trying out for the program – but then again, nothing much to do around here anyways, ha ha ha…" he burst out laughing. Again.

Poor Cloud couldn't help but stare at Zack who had his hands on his waist and his head thrown back. He had the strangest feeling he had run into an idiot. Surely not.

Suddenly, Zack stopped laughing and slapped his hand on Cloud's shoulder.

"Hey, rookie, I just had the best idea!" he beamed at Cloud, his excitement well visible. "How about I try being your sparring partner? It'll give you a taste of what the final tests are going to be like. Besides, I could use the exercise! Well, what do you think?"

A weak "eh?" was all Cloud could muster before Zack slapped him on the back again, "Good! Then we're all set!"

Fifteen minutes later, Cloud was sprawled on the floor after getting his ass kicked. Every inch of his body ached but for some reason he felt like laughing.

"Not bad, kid!" Zack's smiling face appeared in his line of sight. The SOLDIER offered him his hand. He wasn't even out of breath.

Now back on his feet, Cloud shook his head his head meagerly but couldn't fight the urge to smile back, "Not bad…? I think you just wiped the floor with me."

Zack shook his head in response, "No way! I just didn't want to go easy on you. Wouldn't be fair, right? Anyway, I think you have a real shot at becoming one of us!"

Cloud was surprised, "Uh… thanks but… why?" Funny enough, he had never doubted himself, but now that someone else was supporting him he didn't know how to react.

Zack blinked, a thoughtful look coming across his face, "Why, huh? I don't really know why myself," he said, his eyes going over Cloud briefly and then he snapped his fingers.

"Yeah! That's it! You have a nice look in your eyes. I can't really describe it but… I guess I just believe in you." He smiled, and at that moment, something shifted inside Cloud.

Cloud tried to say something, thank him in his awkward way but then the hall's doors were flung open once again and Zack's name was called. The SOLDIER quickly gathered his things and flashed Cloud an apologetic look, "Oops! That's my cue. Sorry, I've got to run! Good luck!"

He started running quickly for the doors until, just as quickly, he came to a stop and turned around.

"Hey, kid!" he yelled at Cloud, "What's your name?"

"… Strife!" Cloud shouted back, "Cloud Strife!"

An impossibly wide grin appeared on Zack's face.

"All right! Do your best, Cloud Strife! I'll be rootin' for ya!"

The next day, Cloud was told he hadn't made it into the program.

_xxx_

He'd had his mind set on succeeding. He had decided he would make it so of course he was crushed about failing but he didn't really have another choice than to try again. He couldn't go home just like that. He never wanted to go back to that town if he didn't make it big first. So he tried again next year.

And the year after that, and the year after that until, before he knew it, he had graduated from the Academy and was serving in the troops as an infantryman.

He always made it to the final stages, he filled all the physical requirements; he was told, time after time, that he had what it took. But then he was cut out, always for the same reasons. He didn't have enough confidence or charisma. He wasn't fit to be a leader. The phrasing might have changed but the fact remained the same. He was frustrated beyond words. If it was something physical he could have always trained more, come back next year even stronger and faster, but he couldn't do anything when the problem was inside his head.

He knew he couldn't change. Not that much. But what else did he have? He had to keep trying, time after time even though every rejection shattered him to pieces all over again. He felt he had let his mother down. At times, he remembered Zack's words in that training hall and felt he wasn't worthy of being believed in. He was nothing but a failure. And yet he couldn't give up. No matter what. The only thing more pitiable than a sore loser was a loser who didn't know when to quit and move on.

Serving in the troops Cloud came to travel all around and meet all sorts of new people. It kept him going. He did his job well and he was trusted. Sometimes his squad was even led by a member of SOLDIER - and that was how he saw Zack Fair again, on another mission to the far ends of the planet. To his surprise, the SOLDIER still remembered him and was genuinely happy to see him again. And, as Cloud noted with mixed feelings of both relief and guilt, never asked about the SOLDIER trials. After that mission Cloud found himself, whether by request or mere accident, assigned to Zack's squad on more than one occasion. Not that he minded because, in one way or another, he, the silent brooder and pessimist, became close-knit with the cheerful, happy-go-lucky eternal optimist, Zack.

Now, Zack wasn't a faraway idol anymore as much as he was Cloud's first real friend and the closest thing he had to a brother. As enough time had passed, he finally felt brave enough to tell Zack about what had happened in the tryouts, but instead of the pity he was expecting, he received genuine encouragement. Spurred by Zack's support, determination replaced disappointment and he decided that next year it would finally be his time.

"Next year you'd better show them!" Zack cheered him on, "before I leave you behind!"

Cloud knew he was joking and yet he couldn't help but believe him. Zack was more popular than ever and his promotion to First was just a few technicalities away whereas Cloud became painfully conscious of the years going by, one after another, as well that he was still an infantryman. He knew he wasn't Zack, nor would he ever be, but how could he not think he was in a rush? Zack kept saying he had all the time in the world, but as Cloud very well aware, one did not become a SOLDIER in his mid-forties. They started young and burned bright all the way into an early retirement with a big fat check every month for time honorably served.

With that in mind, he started volunteering for even more demanding and dangerous missions. Free time became a foreign concept to him and he was busier than ever. He spent longer and longer periods of time away from Midgar, traveling to places he had never even heard of… until one very certain day.

It was nothing more than a mere routine mission, nothing special about it. ShinRa was building Mako Reactors all over the world, spreading wealth and abundance, but there were numerous reports of abnormal monster behavior around the construction sites. The reports kept piling up and eventually led to ShinRa deploying troops to investigate the matter. And now it was time to take control of the situation in a place where the reactor's construction had been completed a few years back.

Cloud really didn't want to go. He wished he wouldn't have to.

The town was called Nibelheim.

_xxx_

He didn't know it then, but his life was defined by coincidences. It wasn't fate's invisible hand that guided him, but chance. It had been that way since day of his birth and it would remain that way forever. And never before had chance demonstrated its power the way it did on that mission in Nibelheim.

As he looked at the snow covered town he had no choice but to suppress the immediate feeling of desperation and unease. He might as have just gone back in time. It was like looking at an old photograph; nothing had changed except for the silhouette of the reactor built up in the mountains. Upon his return Cloud realized, more clearly than ever, just how stuck this town was. It was a dead-end.

He hated everything about it. He watched with disgust how the people were deliriously content with their little, insignificant lives, happily unconscious of the world beyond this small, sleepy village. They loved their own oblivion and didn't even wish for more.

_'That's why_,´ he realized, ´_that's why I could never fit in_.´

And yet, though he considered himself different from all the people in Nibelheim, he hadn't changed that much either. He hadn't fulfilled his promise. The only things he had fulfilled were the townspeople's presumptions that no matter how much he tried he would never become anything. In their opinion, he had always been chasing the impossible. Nibelheim boys didn't move to big cities and become famous. Nibelheim boys married Nibelheim girls, started families and grew old in houses passed down from their own parents and, lastly, were buried in the Nibelheim town cemetery. It was foolish to think otherwise.

Unable to take their condescending sympathy Cloud hid his identity. It was even easier than what he had expected as Nibelheim people held very little interest in outsiders – and even less in those coming from Midgar whom they treated with masked contempt. It was a miracle they had allowed for the reactor to be built.

The closest he ever came to removing his helmet was when he saw his mother. He had never realized how small a woman she was. Weak and frail, nothing like the mother he remembered, hugging him so tight the day he left he thought he would suffocate. She was thin and pale and her hair, waves of warm gold, had lost their shine. The woman he saw now was only barely more than a ghost. It broke his heart, but he couldn't find the courage to stand in front of her. Not even now, after all those years.

Cloud was relieved when his squad finally left to inspect the reactor. Even being attacked by ferocious monsters seemed like a good option when compared to watching his mother's receding back, her shoulders pulled down by an almost visible load. No, anything was better than listening to the townspeople's remarks about her, their voices filled with pity that sounded false in his ears.

The monsters his squad came across were truly hideous beings, their eyes gleaming maliciously and panting breaths reeking of bloodlust. The road to the reactor was in a condition just as horrible as he had remembered it to be, at places so narrow and unkempt it was nothing more than an animal's trail coiling up the mountain. There was a reason why all the town's children had been forbidden from going up there. It was mostly due to Cloud's familiarity with the area that they managed to arrive safe and sound – save for a couple of monster bites and scratches here and here – to the reactor.

Cloud had never seen so close to one before. It was an ugly thing, rooted to the side of the mountain, somewhat resembling a giant parasite sucking the life out of its host. But it was reactors like these, harnessing the hidden energy source in the land that provided people with conveniences such as electricity and warmth. That was what he had been taught. He had no reason not to believe it. Having heard tales about the magical glow of Mako, he was curious to see what the reactor looked like from the inside.

What happened next was nothing more than an accident caused by a stupid slip of his feet. Maybe it was due to a temporary lack of caution, maybe he just wasn't watching where he was going, or maybe he was occupied with something else. Maybe he had something on his mind.

But no matter what the reason the result was still the same.

Cloud Strife tripped, lost his balance and fell into the reactor. His life as he had known it was coming to an end as he plunged into the eerily glowing abyss.

It wasn't fate. It was a coincidence.

When he woke up, there was a strange glow in his eyes. His whole body was strange. Not the way it had been before. His hands and legs didn't work the way he wanted them to. It was as if his nervous system was full of blockages. He was in a completely white, hospital-like room except that there were no windows. He had to keep blinking continuously. Everything seemed brighter than normal, colors were more vivid.

A man in a lab coat entered his room. Cloud recognized his face and remembered he was a big shot in ShinRa's Science and Research Department. Professor Hojo.

"Congratulations, young man," said the professor as he came closer.

"You are one of the very few people to have survived from Mako poisoning… which means you and I are going to spend a lot of time together," Hojo smiled then. It was a sight unpleasant enough to send unwanted chill down Cloud's spine.

The professor left soon after and a person who Cloud assumed was the nurse came in to check on him. She told him he had been very lucky since as the professor had said, not very many who had been exposed to such a large amount of Mako opened their eyes ever again or even lived. When Cloud asked where he was and when he would be released the nurse just said there were still a few tests that they needed to run.

And running tests was what they did. For a while, at least. On the third day he was allowed to get up but only if he didn't stress himself. He wondered why that was. He felt better than ever, now that the initial… well, whatever it had been had subsided. He was so full of energy he could hardly even sleep at night. He felt like he could go running for hours. In fact, if he didn't do anything, he'd get restless. Like there was an itch under his skin. Then the itch turned into irritation or moodiness or, worse even, recklessness. He became unnaturally impulsive. He'd always been the type to think things through, but now every idea that popped up in his head seemed like the best thing he'd ever come up with. And when he wasn't acting like a bear shot in the ass he was overly talkative, always joking and goofing around to the point of being an annoyance. But as time passed and he had been left there "for monitoring in case there was a change in his condition" for more than a month the jokes and pranks lessened and were replaced by bad moods, sudden flares of temper and even bouts of abrupt fury and violence. He wasn't so great anymore.

He began to feel like a prisoner. He had all this pressure inside him and no way of relieving it. He was allowed to leave his room but not the floor. The heavy doors at the each end of the corridor made up the borders of his whole world. His current universe, the hallway painted white from floor to ceiling was just like that of a hospital, but he couldn't help but doubt whether the staff, friendly doctors and nurses, were there to help him or not. When he asked if and when he would be discharged he always received the same, vague answers.

Security was tight. Every night the doors at the end of the corridor were bolted shut with impressive locks. Outside, there were armed guards. The feeling got stronger. It was no hospital. The people around him weren't doctors and nurses dedicated to making sure he got better. Because he wasn't. He couldn't sleep, and when he didn't sleep for a number of days he started hearing things and when he heard things he knew others didn't hear, he became too scared to fall asleep. The worst part was that he knew he was going crazy and that the people around him weren't there to help. He missed his mom and he missed Zack but he was alone.

After three months, Professor Hojo came back to see him. That day, Cloud was in his room, refusing to eat or get up, his body and mind weak after a long bout of insomnia. Men came in, dragged him on his feet and forced him to come with them. He was brought to a room with an examination table and then strapped down to the table. Hojo came in and approached him. He was handed a tray with several syringes on it. Instantly, Cloud knew something was wrong and started to resist, fighting and pulling on the restraints, but one of Hojo's assistants rolled up Cloud's sleeve and the professor injected him with his first shot of Mako. Cloud had never been as terrified of anything as he was that moment, helplessly watching as the needle pierced in his skin and emptied its contents straight into his vein. Then, Hojo took another syringe and infected him with something that put him straight to sleep.

He woke up. It was another white room. The walls were padded and there was a large window on the opposite wall. He couldn't see through the tinted glass. There was a terribly loud noise.

_Thump, thump, thump_, it went. With every thump he thought his head would explode. He was hot. Sweating. His blood was on fire. He had ants under his skin. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _

"Make it… stop…" he croaked, getting up. He could feel his leg muscles contract. But the noise wouldn't stop. It didn't even lessen when he put his hands on his ears. He finally realized it was his own heartbeat, beating so hard against his ribcage he feared for a moment it would burst. And it wasn't just his heart he could hear. He was conscious of everything going on in his body. His senses were heightened. He concentrated on blocking out the relentless beating of his heart, and that was when he heard muffled voices. There was no way he could've heard them before. Somebody, no, several somebodies were talking behind the black glass window.

They were watching him, observing him. Making notes of his behavior. Exchanging opinions.

Suddenly, Cloud was angry. He couldn't stand being in this small, strange room, caged like an animal. He attacked the window because he knew his captors were behind it. He pounded it with his fists, he threw himself against it, he screamed and cursed and threatened until he, just as suddenly as he had woken up, passed out.

He was, yet again, tied down to a table when he regained consciousness. He couldn't move. He noticed he was hooked to multiple machines, one of them spitting out paper with weird graphs on it. Every now and then the guard at the door let in an assistant to take away the graphs. Realizing quickly that talking to the guard was futile Cloud kept asking the assistant where he was and what they were doing to him but he never received any explanations. With his now abnormal hearing, he could hear people talking about him on the other side of the doors but the discussion was always filled with too many complicated medical terms for him to understand anything.

Hojo entered the room at some point, looking through a chart and not bothering to even glance at Cloud.

"I see you've calmed down. That's the downside of the injection. Makes the subjects so difficult to handle," the professor said finally and took a seat. Cloud glared at him, his pulse beginning to quicken. He knew this man was behind everything.

"What's happening to me?" he asked.

"There's really no point in me explaining it to you," Hojo replied, "it's not like a simple mind like yours could understand the greatness of my research. And that's fine. I've read your file. I know about all those failed attempts at entering SOLDIER. Sad, really. But don't worry. You've finally managed to become useful. If I were you, I wouldn't think too much about it."

Hearing that, something twisted in Cloud's gut, "What do you mean, 'useful'?"

"You're part of something bigger now. Bigger than that old, pitiable existence of yours. I suggest you forget about it. It'll be easier that way."

"…"

Cloud understood something then. He had been trying to deny it but it had been real all along. All his fears were coming true.

"… I'm not getting out, am I?"

It wasn't really a question any more.

Professor Hojo got up, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Clever boy."

In reality, Cloud had become a part of Hojo's secret research into Mako. It was secret because only a fraction of ShinRa's upper echelons were aware of such a research going on – and those who knew didn't really want to hear about the details. Despite realizing what horrendous means were used to produce them, they knew they would receive best results if they just granted the professor the funds and absolute sovereignty over his experiments. In short, Hojo could do whatever he wanted as long as no-one found out.

To label what Cloud was now as a 'test subject' was a bit of an overstatement. He was more like Hojo's guinea pig – although a very valued and carefully protected one at that. To survive Mako poisoning was so rare that Hojo couldn't afford to accidentally kill Cloud in one of his experiments.

Exactly what caused Cloud to be so resistant to Mako that he was able to live after being exposed to such large amounts of it wasn't clear. It was probably an extremely rare genetic mutation in his DNA. But Hojo wasn't too interested in that. He was just happy to have a test subject that could cope with bigger doses of Mako.

When in contact with a human being, Mako worked a lot like adrenaline. It increased the individual's performance; a quickened pulse, enhanced blood circulation, quicker reflexes and so forth. Long term effects were rapid growth of muscle mass, heightened senses and superhuman strength and stamina. Mako also had the ability to bring about changes in behavior such as recklessness and general lack of caution. But that was where the problems began. Mako had the power to push a person's performance well beyond the limits of his normal capacity, putting a huge strain on his organs and vital functions. As soon as the effects of Mako wore off the carrier was in danger of losing consciousness, heart attack, trouble breathing or worst, multiple organ failure. That was Mako poisoning. The body simply reached its limits and shut down. People suffering from the condition had no choice but to avoid stressful situations to the best of their abilities because, though the key factor in triggering Mako activation in the blood stream wasn't known it had been proved that secretion of adrenaline had something to do with the onset of episodes.

The portions of Mako SOLDIERs were injected with was much, much smaller and especially modified by Hojo to avoid the unwanted effects, but that meant SOLDIERs had to come in regularly for their shots since this milder, refined form of Mako actually dissipated from the carrier's system with time. That way they could attain the abnormal abilities Mako provided but didn't have to suffer the aftereffects.

Cloud's role in the grand scheme of things, however, was not so glorious no matter how precious a guinea pig he was.

When he was in a Mako induced state he had no problems with being Hojo's pet. Mako inflicted a high that was, in those conditions, the best way to survive. It took away all the emotions, leaving behind a cold machine capable of committing unspeakable acts of violence. He could rip people into pieces without blinking. Time didn't really matter to him anymore. His life was just a trial phase after another divided by periods of recuperation, allowing his body temporary rest.

It was the recuperation which turned out to be the hardest part; during these periods he came back to his senses only to realize his whole personality was being torn apart. It would have been better if he could have just forgotten his past, forgotten who he was – but in a way that was clean and quick, like a hit to the head resulting in amnesia instead of the slow process he was forced to go through as months turned into years. He started losing bigger and bigger parts of his memory. He was, slowly but surely, losing his whole identity. He developed varying symptoms; delusions and paranoia, depression, passiveness and bipolarity. It was the flashbacks of this time in his life that later haunted him in his sleep and sometimes set off the poison inside him, rendering him void of the last piece of humanity he had left.

He wasn't Cloud Strife anymore. He was gradually turning into a shell, quite aptly named as test subject number thirteen.

The unlucky number.

What he didn't know, though, was that he had stopped existing in the outside world as well. As far as ShinRa's official records went, he had been killed in action in a monster attack. All of his personal belongings were delivered to his mother along with the company's letter of condolences on his passing. Upon hearing the news of her son's death Cloud's mother became so ridden with grief that she, unable to bear the loss of her only child and family any longer, took her own life.

And so it would be that Cloud would be forgotten and all that would remain behind was the data Hojo had managed to gather in all the years he was kept in there. Or so it seemed, until an unpredicted and unexpected variable came along. A variable named Zack Fair. Once again, it was time for chance to display its tremendous might.

_xxx_

It was by sheer accident that Zack saw Cloud, the friend whose death he had already mourned and come to accept, hooked to a bunch of machines and passed out. He was out on a mission and in need of his regular Mako dose, but as the professor was out of Midgar he had to make a detour and come to Nibelheim where Hojo was working on… whatever it was, it had one fancy name and Zack was bad at remembering those.

In his opinion, it was just stupid that the injections had to be administered by the professor himself. It wasn't a job fit for a SOLDIER to run around the planet after some wacky scientist. But there was no helping it. Hojo was obsessively protective over his work.

Zack, having never visited Hojo's laboratories in Nibelheim before, found it extremely easy to get lost in the complex building. All the floors looked the same to him – as they did in every hospital-like building. Zack had never spent too much time in hospitals. He had always been a healthy boy. And now, after the Mako treatment, he was better than ever.

He had to stop and ask for the professor's whereabouts several times. Because he was a SOLDIER, people usually answered his questions and that was how he found himself in the lower floors of the building. He came to a door with a pair of burly armed guys guarding it. At first, they wouldn't let him through but when he told them who he was and what might happen if he didn't get his next shot soon enough the men sort of just gulped and opened the door.

Well, telling them he couldn't take responsibility for his actions if he didn't get the Mako soon enough was a bit of an exaggeration but hey, as long as it got him out of there a little faster… No harm done. In fact, he didn't mind doing anything that would let him go back to Midgar even a day earlier. No. Go back _home_, where she was waiting. The thought had him smiling all the way until his path was blocked by a group of people in lab coats going across the hallway. Curious, he let his gaze follow them as they unlocked a door and went in – and in the half second the door remained ajar he managed to catch a glimpse of spiky, blonde hair he had seen on only one person and a face he couldn't forget no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that accidents happened, people got killed and there was nothing he could do to change it. But there it was, that familiar face. Definitely subjected to change and different but somehow still the same. Zack didn't even bother to ask himself if he might have been mistaken. It was Cloud all right.

His thoughts were interrupted by Hojo who looked anything but pleased to see him there. He still gave Zack his Mako, maybe just to get rid of him. Zack didn't mind. He was too busy thinking and planning ahead.

That night, Zack broke back into the labs by himself. He was stopped a few times but he always managed to get away with it, again mostly due to his status as a member of SOLDIER. People rarely wanted to argue with them. It was that and his almost unnatural confidence that everything would go his way if he wanted it to which got him back on the floor where he'd seen Cloud. Still, he could only keep hoping they hadn't moved him somewhere else. Then he'd have no way of finding him.

Now, for the keys. It would have been quicker just to bust through the door but he wanted to avoid attracting attention as much as he could. He did feel a little bad, though, knocking down a short, nerdy looking guy in a lab coat and stealing his keys. He made sure the hallway was clear before entering Cloud's room.

He was relieved to see Cloud was sleeping, all of the weird tubes and sensors removed from him. Zack noticed immediately that he was bigger now, the shape of his muscles distinct even through the hospital gown he was wearing. He looked older. Well, it had been many years since they had last seen each other but Cloud looked well past his years. Even though he was sleeping, he seemed strained. Tired and worn out.

Nervous, Zack tried waking him up, coming closer and touching Cloud's shoulder carefully, "Cloud. Cloud, wake up. It's me, Zack."

Cloud's eyes, shining sharply with Mako, snapped open in that instant and he tried jerking away but he was tied to the bed. Through his enhanced vision Zack could see Cloud's muscles were mustering all their strength, the veins in his arms bulging. But his face remained emotionless, his eyes staring at Zack without the tiniest hint of a blink… and without recognizing him.

This was the point where Zack understood once and for all that something was very wrong here. For the first time he felt his resolve weaken and shudder as the basis for all he had believed in was slowly unraveling. Zack was often judged by people as naïve or clueless but he was neither. Actually, he was quite sharp – if he wasn't, he wouldn't have gotten into SOLDIER. He didn't know the details but then again, he didn't have to. It was by no mistake Cloud had been declared dead and it was no accident that he was here, now, tied to a bed in Hojo's lab. Zack could have demanded for answers if he didn't already know what was for certain: that Hojo was no doctor nor was he interested in healing people.

He then did something that would destroy his whole career so far, all of his chances of becoming a SOLDIER First Class as well as his future in the company. He did it without even blinking; not allowing himself a single selfish thought about how it was going to affect his life, not pausing to doubt for a second if it was wise or safe. Because it wasn't. It was stupid, dangerous and would cost him everything he had ever worked for. Yet, he did it anyway. Why?

Well, Zack Fair was a good man. That was all there was to it.

That night, Zack helped Cloud escape and ended his life in captivation as well as his own life as the rising star of SOLDIER.

It didn't take long for him to realize Cloud was a wreck and that what he had seen so far barely scratched the surface of the damage done. At first, Cloud was wary of him; jumpy, nervous and irritable and Zack had to stay awake twenty four hours a day just to keep an eye on him. Then there was a sudden switch, and Cloud stopped functioning. He didn't say a word no matter how many times Zack asked him what they had done to him or what was wrong.

That wasn't the least of Zack's problems. Though they had managed to get away from the immediate vicinity of the lab it was clear that they weren't out of the water just yet. Knowing Hojo, it wouldn't take him long to figure out what had happened and send out his men with a prescription of both Zack and Cloud and an order to seize them by all means necessary. Hojo couldn't afford his secrets to get out, not because he feared he couldn't explain away all the ethically questionable aspects of his research but because he didn't want his colleagues – or as he saw it, his competition – at the Science and Research Department steal his work.

If it was just Zack himself, avoiding the patrolling squads would have been a piece of cake but now he had Cloud with him who just seemed to get worse day by day. At times, he was aggressive and at times he became so passive it was impossible to draw any kind of reaction from him. Zack was becoming desperate, fearing that the boy he had known was gone forever – until one day, as he was forcefully feeding the immobile Cloud what he had managed to scrape together, another switch went off in the blond's head and a single world rolled off his tongue,

"Zack?"

That was the beginning. That was the sign telling there was still hope left for him. After that, Zack felt his resolve had been renewed. With a strength that couldn't be labeled as anything but stubbornness he was somehow able to keep them from getting caught and at the same time, coax out what was left of Cloud Strife's personality. Slowly but surely they set out on their long, long trip.

'_Just you wait, Cloud,'_ thought Zack to himself, _'just wait 'til we get to Midgar and we'll fix you right up. Then I'm going after Hojo.'_

Going to Midgar where ShinRa's headquarters were located sounded like a bad idea – unless where you wanted to go was directly under it, as in the Midgar slums. In many ways, they might have been the safest place to hide from ShinRa as the company regarded itself too dignified to deal with the lowlifes under the plate. The slums represented ShinRa's backyard which the company cared too little about to take care of and thus paid very little attention to it. Zack also knew he had comrades in SOLDIER whom he could always count on, even if he had been declared a deserter and a traitor by the company. What ShinRa didn't know, though, was that SOLDIER didn't work that way. The company might have been their employer but the unit's true loyalty lied somewhere else – in each other. There was no way ShinRa's elite force could have functioned if the men in SOLDIER couldn't place their trust in each other. They were often said to resemble a pack of tightly-knit wolves; the three men in First Class were the leaders, protecting and giving direction to all the lower-class members and earning their absolute trust and loyalty in return. The truth was that even if ShinRa were to fall, SOLDIER could – and would – still go on.

So if they just managed to make it into Midgar and slip a word to Zack's comrades they would be safe for sure. If they could just do that. But as it was, there were still a few twists and turns in store for them.

It took them well over two months to travel from Nibelheim to the coast, sail over the ocean and arrive in Junon. This was the crucial point in their journey; the city swarming with ShinRa troops – but also the place where you could board the train going straight to Midgar. Continuing the way they had up until now, by feet, would have been the safest choice but Zack was getting impatient. He was sick of it, sick of all of it; being forced to hide, the crappy food, not being able to trust anyone, not being able to have a good night's sleep… And what he hated most was not being able to contact his loved ones and tell them he wasn't a traitor hunted by the company as the newspapers and their headlines now described him.

So he decided to take a chance. What encouraged him further was the fact that Cloud was gradually getting better. He knew now who Zack was; he could keep up conversation and had stopped trying to run away all the time. Zack was positive he was making good progress. Cloud still wouldn't mention his time in the labs, though and eventually Zack stopped asking, just like he had stopped asking about the nightmares that seemed to plague Cloud. Those worried him the most. The dreams turned Cloud back into a stranger, irrational and violent, dangerous even. When he was like that, Zack was at a loss what to do about him. Well, all he could do was trust that, with enough time, Cloud would return to himself.

They came up with a risky plan. There wasn't enough time to somehow get their hands on fake ID's and ticket fees so they chose to disguise themselves, playing a role they knew very well – the role of members of ShinRa troops. Stealing a couple of uniforms wouldn't be too hard in a completely ShinRa-operated city. They just had to find a pair of guys with a build similar to their own.

The city had quieted down by nightfall and all they had to do was lure their targets into a back alley, knock them down and strip them of their uniforms. It was child's play, almost ridiculously easy. Too easy, in fact, as they would soon see.

Cloud was just putting on his helmet when a voice, filled with confusion, came from behind him,

"… Strife? Is that you?"

He turned around instinctively. He didn't recognize the face he was seeing. He only realized the man was wearing a uniform and that he wasn't alone.

"It… is you! What the hell? We were told you were dead – "

Then, Zack came out. The timing couldn't have been worse, the two now half-naked men lying on the ground and Zack Fair, wanted across the planet, his face plastered all over the newspapers patting away thr wrinkles on his freshly stolen uniform. The squad of men hesitated, reluctant to go against an old leader and role model but only until the weight of wearing the uniform and the responsibility that came with it began to bear down on them. They attacked, just as they had been ordered to with the objective of taking down Zack Fair and whoever he was with. Zack and Cloud had Mako, they could hold their own for a while but they couldn't help the fact that they were outnumbered and that they weren't in prime condition after running and hiding for so long.

Cloud was cornered but refused to yield. One of his opponents, having lost his weapon, picked up a steel pipe off the ground and took a sweep at Cloud's feet and then his chest, making him lose his balance just as someone else managed to grab his head and ram it against the wall behind Cloud. He blacked out for a second but when he opened eyes, his opponents were gone. Or rather, they had been forced to focus their attention on Zack. Cloud saw he wouldn't last much longer. He was on the ground, the men kicking and beating him all over. Cloud tried to get up, the fierce beat of his pulse droning in his ears, his blood now on fire with Mako when the sound of Zack's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Run, Cloud! It's an order!"

'…_eh?'_

"Run, Strife!"

'_What__…?' _

"Run, now!"

'_No, this is wrong – '_

"Cloud! GO!"

He took the helmet, turned around and ran. He ran despite the pain in his knee, despite the constant dizziness and nausea caused by the injury on his head. Every ShinRa uniform he passed by made him panic shortly but he didn't stop. All he could hear were Zack's words, chasing him further, faster and faster until he arrived at the train station. Oblivious to all that surrounded him, he made his way to the first line of cars, simply busting the door to one of the cargo compartments. He couldn't use his leg anymore so he crawled behind the larger crates.

It was very dark and quiet. Something warm was dribbling down from his forehead but he didn't have the strength to remove his helmet. He was very, very tired now. Too tired to think even about Zack who was somewhere out there, captured and bound, ready to be delivered to… But he was too tired. Thoughts slipped away until there was nothing left. He closed his eyes.

Hours later, the train would arrive in Midgar and the unconscious Cloud would be discovered by a kind stranger.

It wasn't fate. It was a coincidence.


	4. Lost

AN: It's a whole new year and I'm back with chapter four! I've had all sorts of problems and delays including the loss of all my files so I have to yet again apologize for taking so long. This is the second to last chapter so we're almost there. All will be revealed! ... Well, almost.

A most humble thank you to everyone who read or reviewed!

**Chapter four: Lost**

_Cloud stretched his hands out towards the flames. His numb fingers prickled and hurt as they began to warm up slowly. His breath formed small clouds in the cold, crisp air. The scenery around him was in black and white: the snow on the ground, shadows of mountains in the distance, the black night sky stretching over their heads, beaded with millions and millions of small, glittering jewels. The snow swallowed all sounds, it was completely silent. And breathtakingly beautiful. _

_Cloud knew he should crawl into his tent and get some much needed sleep. Tomorrow was going to be another long day of trudging through thigh deep snow, following the footprints of one excited, seemingly inexhaustible member of SOLDIER. But he couldn't resist staying up and freezing his ass of all the while trying to ignore his toes that were on the verge of falling off inside his boots due to the cold. _

_The snow creaked as Zack Fair sat down across the fire. He was peering at the sky, a slight smile on his face... and his arms were bare, exposed to the ruthless mountain wind drifting through the valley. And he didn't seem to be the least bit bothered by it. _

_Just looking at him made Cloud shrink deeper into his coat. He could have killed for a warm drink._

_"Aren't you cold?" he still had to ask. _

_Zack glanced at him, "Nah, it's the..." _

_"Mako," nodding, Cloud completed his sentence. They sometimes talked about the subject. But not often. Usually they talked about normal, ordinary things. The stuff regular friends would chat and joke about. But never in the presence of others. As far as the other members of the squad knew, Cloud was just Zack's subordinate. _

_A couple of minutes went by. _

_"It's pretty," Zack said finally, looking back at the stars. "I wish I could take a picture of it. To show her, I mean. Describing it just isn't enough. I want her to experience it the way I do." _

_Cloud knew who Zack was referring to. And he also knew the reason Zack was so adamant on finishing this assignment before schedule, even though it drove the non-SOLDIER members of the squad to the verge of exhaustion. It was all because she was waiting for him. _

_Lately, Zack's focus just wasn't there. It made Cloud nervous. Personally, he thought Zack shouldn't be mooning over girls when his career was reaching a critical point. If he messed up now, he could lose everything. _

_"... Zack, what's so special about her?" suddenly, Cloud wasn't sure whether or not that was too personal of a question. "I mean, you have a girl waiting for you in about every town on this continent..." _

_"Shut up, Strife," Zack grinned, then went serious and shrugged. "I'm not sure... uh... well, just look at her!" He stood up, fished for something in his pockets and handed Cloud a small photograph. Cloud looked at it. _

_It was a girl with long, wavy chestnut hair, bright green eyes and a gentle, yet playful smile. _

_"Easy on the eyes, right? Right?" Zack nudged him in the side with his elbow. Cloud could see him beaming without having to actually looking at him. _

_He gave the picture back to Zack, "Yeah, I guess so." _

_"You just don't get it, Strife," Zack chided but there was a definite amount of humor in his voice. "You remind me of myself back when I thought only fools would get serious over a girl. But then I met her and..." he paused, eyes going down to the picture, going over it, the corner of his mouth curling into a tiny half a smile which Cloud knew meant he was truly, sincerely happy. _

_"I saw her for the first time and I knew she was the girl I was going to marry," he finished, then realized what he'd said - confessed - and let out an embarrassed laugh. "... Wow, that was seriously lame, wasn't it?" _

_Cloud could have joked, could have made fun of him, but didn't. He didn't have the courage to look at Zack as he looked for words, "How... how did you know it was her?" _

_"How did I know, huh?" Zack repeated, thoughtful. Then, he seemed to realize something and his face lit up, "I just felt it. Here," _

_He tapped his chest, right over his heart. _

_xxx_

The slums were silent as Cloud strode through the streets with remarkable speed. The smell of gutters hung in the air and he had to breathe through his mouth. He really shouldn't be moving yet, not this much. His head spun and nausea kept haunting him. But he kept moving and trying his best to navigate in unfamiliar surroundings. Every street and corner looked the same; every sorry person he ran into had the same look of resign written on their face.

His knee hurt like a bitch with every step but he forced himself to walk naturally. People remembered a guy with a limp.

He kept remembering things even though he tried to stay focused. Things, moments like that one night in the mountains. That was an especially dangerous moment to remember. It made him sick with fear and guilt, turned his feet into lead and tore his resolve apart.

As he left Sector Seven behind him, he remembered something else.

They had been on the run for several weeks when Zack, looking more serious than ever, handed Cloud a crumbled piece of paper with an address scribbled on it.

_"Cloud. If something were to happen to me... then you must continue without me. Go to Midgar. Look for this place. She'll take you in. You'll be safe there. You can trust her." _

The address was still etched into his mind. It was in Sector Five. He could probably find it on his own. He could go there and tell the girl...

_'Tell her what, exactly? That her good-hearted, noble fiancé was probably never coming back? That he could be dead, but hey, at least he didn't die in vain...'_

Going there would make sure he lived through the day, as opposite to this ridiculous quest that would most likely turn out to be a suicide. He could try to make a life for himself. Make up for the years he had lost. Grow old.

But instead he went to look for a way to get above the plate.

His mind was filled with calm and determination.

_'I'm going to die today.'_

_xxx_

He stole another ShinRa uniform to get aboard the train. The car he was sitting in was void of people save for a few early birds. He could tell they were wondering why he was traveling alone and not with other members of the troops - but the uniform did the job it was supposed to and kept them from asking questions.

The train kept climbing upwards as people kept getting off until the car was empty.

Then came the announcement. A cold, distant female voice spoke through the speakers.

Final stop. ShinRa Headquarters.

Cloud got off and this time he knew exactly where he was going. This place had been his home. The number of times he'd been standing on the front steps of the gigantic building, just like he was now, just looking up to the heights of the tower disappearing into the mist of clouds, how many had there been? He'd lost count. But the difference was that back then his eyes were filled with admiration and wonder. This tower had represented progress, advancement, something new and different that would come to change the world. And now... now he saw it for what it truly was; a tall pile of junk, steel and metal and glass; cold and inhumane, shedding its shadow over him.

But this was where it all began so it was more than fitting that this was where it would end once and for all.

Before, faced with a situation like this, he would have been a trembling ball of nerves, but not now. Mako gave him the ability to concentrate. Everything else was silenced, put on mute.

He climbed up the stairs and entered the huge lobby bustling with people. He pushed the visor of his helmet up just so he wouldn't look so suspicious. He had to stop in front of the building map to see if they had changed anything. Everything was in the same place it had been all those years ago. Cloud boarded the elevator and went up as high as he could with his current keycard. Then he exited and waited for a while to spot a suitable target. Thirty minutes passed until he caught sight of an employee whom he recognized as one of Professor Hojo's assistants. He accidentally-on-purpose bumped into the young woman, stole her keycard without her noticing anything was amiss, and strode right back to the elevators. This time no-one boarded the elevator with him.

_Ding_, said the elevator as the doors opened. Cloud checked the hallway before stepping out. He took off his helmet. It would be of no use here.

He'd never been on this floor before, mainly because a mere member of the troops had neither business nor the necessary security clearance here. "ShinRa Science & Research Department" read the sign on the wall.

It was quiet. Even eerily so. Cloud sensed the sharp smell of disinfectant and nearly passed out. The memories were so vivid. He kept going back to his time in a lab not unlike this one and he remembered the desperate panic he'd been in before he lost touch with reality and went numb.

Narrow corridors stretched out on both his right and left side. He turned right, making sure his steps didn't make any noise. A row of doors appeared and he paused in front of the first one. Examination Room No. 1. Numbers two, three and four followed. He swiped his stolen keycard and opened the first room. Inside he found a room resembling a regular doctor's office with a bed and a few medical supplies. He opened all the doors, all of them empty until he came to the last room. The lights were off but the bed was hidden behind a curtain.

Cloud felt his stomach twist into a tight knot. He really should keep going, he didn't have time to waste, but all he could see was himself lying behind that curtain, restraints on his wrists and ankles. He stepped into the room, heart pounding in his chest, legs trembling and unstable as he reached for the curtain and yanked it aside so hard it almost tore apart.

The bed was empty. Cloud staggered and had to grab the bed for support. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until fresh air filled his lungs again.

_'I can't do this'_, he realized. If he stayed here any longer than necessary he'd go crazy. He left the room with his hands in tight fists and continued down the corridor. He kept remembering that other lab not so long ago and had to fight to keep it together, to stay focused on what was ahead. The corridor just kept on going, stretching into a seemingly endless distance. He tried to rely on his instincts but all the doors and rooms looked the same, the silence just carried on. Frustration and anxiety started to take over his feelings. What if all for this was for nothing? What if, in the end, he would be left empty-handed?

But then again, he knew how low the probability of success had been ever since the beginning. He was betting on luck, on chance. It was all or nothing.

Then his ears picked up a faint, distant sound. The sound of someone typing away on a keyboard. The person writing wasn't too experienced of a typist. His rhythm was uneven with long pauses every now and then. Cloud's blood ran faster as he moved towards the sound until he came to a simple, unmarked room. There was a window to the room but the blinds were drawn down. There was no mistaking that the unknown person using the computer was behind the closed door. Cloud set his hand on the doorknob, tried turning it gently to see if the door was locked. It wasn't. Suddenly his palm was sweaty and he had to take a moment to even his breath. Then, concentration.

Now or never. All or nothing.

The room was dark except for the light coming from the computer screen. The computer itself hummed quietly. The man, sitting with his back facing the door, hadn't noticed the door opening silently behind him. There was a microscope and other kinds of laboratory equipment.

Cloud flipped on the light. The man stopped typing right away, saved the document he was working on and turned around. No rush. Never even flinched in surprise. He was dressed in a lab coat, had long hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck and round glasses that had slid down his nose. The man blinked, and then fixed his glasses. There lenses were smeared with grease stains.

"So good of you to come, Number Thirteen. I've been looking all over for you," the man said, his tone completely neutral. As if he had been expecting this.

Cloud felt his every sense heighten. He felt like he was about to explode and yet, at the same time, he was completely calm. He realized he'd been waiting for this. Waiting for closure from the moment he had escaped with Zack. He closed the door behind him, heard it lock. It didn't really matter. No-one was there, no-one besides them.

"Professor Hojo," he said. He took a step closer while Hojo remained in his seat.

"I really am pleased to see you. Can't have a test subject running around freely, you see... Especially not one so precious. I've invested a lot of time, money and resources on you," the professor went on.

"Cut the crap, Hojo," Cloud snapped, "I'd tape over your mouth if you didn't need it to answer questions."

Hojo just shrugged, "Go ahead." Cloud knew what the professor was thinking. There was no way Cloud would walk out alive, so what did it matter if he opened his mouth?

But then Cloud just walked up to him, looking down at the skinny, pale scientist. Cloud was so much stronger, so much bigger now.

"Sorry, I forgot something," he said and punched Hojo in the face. His fist connected with the professor's jaw and sent him to the floor. Immediate adrenaline rush. Cloud didn't even feel the pain in his knuckles. He waited for Hojo to come back to his senses and then knelt down to grab the collars of his jacket, lifting the scientist off the floor. He saw Hojo's yellow, crooked teeth and smelled his rotting breath. Hate and contempt flared up in his veins and he had to hold himself back from strangling the man then and there.

This man, this wretched little weasel of a man who couldn't even take care of his personal hygiene had stolen Cloud's past, present and future. Had taken away _everything_ that had mattered. His whole life blown to shit. All because of him.

Hojo would pay. But not right away. As much as it disgusted him, Cloud needed the professor.

"Where's Zack, Hojo? Where is he? Speak!" he demanded, giving the professor a rough shake to emphasize how serious he was. The scientist didn't even fight back.

"Ah, Zack Fair, of course... A born star. So close to First Class... such a pity, really," the professor rambled, a faraway look on his face. Suddenly Cloud felt his knees grow weak. No. He didn't want to accept it. It couldn't be.

_'Zack. No. No..'._

Zack had told him to run. Had sacrificed himself. He, who had so much to lose. A snowy valley flashed through Cloud's mind, photograph of a girl. Zack's smile.

He shook the professor again, this time in violent desperation. Hojo's head bobbed back and forth. "Answer the question, you shit!" Cloud yelled, "Where is Zack?" When Hojo didn't respond he pulled the man up, shoved him back into the chair and grabbed his arm yanking it behind the professor's back in a way an arm shouldn't bend.

Hojo screamed, lapsed into a fit of coughing and... laughed. His cold cackle echoing in the silence. Cloud hit him again, only to make him stop. Hojo's lower lip split in two. He spat blood on the floor, then raised his head, black bangs hanging on his eyes. He flashed a smirk through bloodied teeth.

"Look at you, Thirteen. Look at how weak you've become in such a very short time. How pathetic. The old you, the one I created would have torn this very hand off by the wrist to get what he wanted. But you've always been like that. Weak. Useless. It's in your nature."

"Shut up," Cloud growled. But Hojo didn't care. He was just getting started.

"I've told you this before. I went through your files. How many times was it again? Trying out for SOLDIER, never passing? All those disappointments. That must've been difficult. And yet you never gave up. Your effort was admirable but useless. You never had it in you. All you ever would have ended up as was nothing more than a failure... that is, until I came along. I think I deserve your gratitude, really."

"What?" Cloud hissed. He knew Hojo was taunting him, was deliberately trying to distract him but he couldn't resist. "What did you say?"

"You don't understand?" Hojo asked with false compassion in his voice, "Let me explain it to you then. Think about how you were. Think of your insignificant, little life. I gave meaning to it. I made you a part of something bigger, something revolutionary with the potential to change the whole world. You could have made a difference, had an impact. In a way, I helped give birth to a whole new you. I made you." His face, it was lit up with pride resembling that of a brand new father.

It was sickening. Cloud had never been so disgusted in his life.

"No," he whispered. His voice trembled with barely contained rage and loathing. "You didn't make me. You didn't create anything. You stole _everything_ from me. My family, my friends. My life. And you treated it like it was yours to take. You're not a scientist; you're not even a man. You're _filth._ Now, tell me where Zack is. If you fail to do so, I will end you."

"… Where is Zack Fair?" Hojo drawled, "… Who knows? I've already forgotten about him…"

There was a sickening crack as Hojo's arm broke. He screamed again, a terrible howl of agony that let him gasping for air and squirming in pain. Cloud jammed his boot on Hojo's fingers. Another wail. It felt good.

He let go and stepped away, "Speak. What did you do to Zack?"

Hojo was squirming on the floor, cradling his ruined hand. For a while he was unable to utter a word besides incomprehensible whimpers. When his head lifted up the floor there was, for the first time, anger in his eyes gleaming through tears of pain. That hand would probably never again hold a scalpel or a syringe. Holding a pen would be a long process.

"... I offered him life as part of my research... He said no."

A loud gasp flew from Cloud's lips as he staggered away and crashed into Hojo's chair. The room was spinning. There it was. The truth. There was no need to hear more. He could only hope Zack's death had been a clean one. Humane. Panic started to take over as desperation colored his feelings and thoughts. What now? What came after this?_ The cure_, he remembered. He needed to know about the cure, if there even was such a thing. But his resolve tore apart, drifted away from him like dead Autumn leaves. He couldn't think about anything else than Zack's unfair fate. How could he even begin to think about himself when Zack was a corpse rotting away in a plastic bag someplace far away? Because of him. He owed Zack his whole life and now he couldn't even try to pay back his debt, couldn't express the gratitude he felt... not only for saving him from Hojo, but for everything; for his kindness, his friendship, his guidance.

_'Zack... Oh God. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I got you killed. I'm sorry.'_

He fell down into the chair, covered his face with his gloved hands. His gut twisted with pain that wasn't physical. There was something stuck in his throat. He felt like throwing up.

He didn't react when Hojo crawled into a sitting position. The professor's whiny yet smug voice penetrated his grief-ridden thoughts,

"Do you see it now? Don't you realize it? You bring nothing but unhappiness and bad luck to those around you. Those who help you or care about you always seem to end up... well, dead. Even that poor girl."

Cloud's head snapped up, "... ... _What_? What did you say?"

"Oh, yes," Hojo flashed a smile that made Cloud's stomach turn, "I'm afraid that slum-dwelling guardian angel of yours had a most unfortunate run-in with burglars this morning. Sweet girl was too kindhearted for her own good. What was her name again...?"

Cloud rose. Hojo wasn't intimidated. He knew what was coming. He just wanted his last bit of fun.

"Say it," Cloud whispered, taking his gloves off. Flexing his fingers. His knuckles cracked. Mako in his blood.

"Tifa... Tifa Lockhart, if I remember correctly? It's a shame. She was so pretty, too – "

Cloud kicked Hojo in the side. Then again. And again. It wasn't enough. The professor's screams didn't make him feel better.

"_Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up..._" he didn't even hear the words pouring from his lips like some frantic mantra.

He grabbed Hojo by his temples. Smashed his head into the floor. Kept smashing until the back of Hojo's head was a mess of blood, tissue, and dark hair and bone fragments. Hojo's nose was so damaged it was as if it'd exploded all over his face. His right eyeball was destroyed. Something gray was leaking through the cracks in the professor's skull.

Everything was covered in a red mist.

_xxx_

Cloud had no idea how he got out of ShinRa Headquarters. All he could remember was running frantically, ignoring the grating ache in his kneecap - and then the plate disappearing from under his feet. A loud crash. Falling, falling, falling...

He woke up in the middle of debris and... flowers? He willed himself to lift up his head and look around. He found himself lying on the floor of what seemed to be an old, partially collapsed church. There was a huge, gaping hole in the ceiling. So that's where he came from.

Light streamed down on him from the gash above him. It was daytime already.

Suddenly he remembered. _Tifa._ He shouldn't be lying around even though it felt good to rest. He was strained close to his limits. His body ached with exhaustion but his growing anxiety urged him to get back on his feet and take the first, hesitant steps. Scenarios of what he would soon see kept running through his mind, each more horrible than the one before it. He tried to stay calm but Hojo's words haunted him despite his efforts to push them away.

_"...Nothing but unhappiness and bad luck to those around you..." _

On the way out he nearly ran into a girl carrying a basket full of flowers. Their shoulders bumped as Cloud rushed past her. There was something familiar about her but he didn't stop to think twice about it.

"Hey!" the girl called after him, "Are you alright?"

Cloud didn't turn around. There was no time. He went outside and was back in the everlasting twilight of the slums. He didn't know this place and he had no clue of his whereabouts. He grabbed the closest person to him and probably scared the woman to death. She pointed him in the right direction nevertheless and Cloud hurried forward. At first he kept himself from running as to not draw any unwanted attention but then just gave up. He didn't care anymore. If they wanted him, all they had to do was come and get him. After all, what more could they do to him? Kill him or throw him in a jail to rot for the rest of his life? To Cloud, both seemed like relatively good options. Hojo was dead and knowing what a secretive bastard he had been, so was his work. He was gone and Cloud was finally free from him.

So he ran through one sector after the other until his surroundings started to look familiar. Then he ran even faster, the beat of his heart close to thunder in his ears. He nearly fell down face first when he heard a faint but definite 'pop' come from his knee. Pain, horrible pain as if someone had put a screw in his knee and was now twisting it. His face twisted and his eyes watered but he had to go on. He had to. He would crawl there if need be.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of moving forward any way he could with a pace way too slow for his liking he saw Tifa's building. The stairs. His leg kept trembling and every step sent waves of pain up his thigh and spine. Just a couple of steps more, he kept chanting in his mind. He was sweating all over and yet he felt cold to his core.

He reached the door. It was open. His insides turned to lead when he saw it was kicked in.

Cloud took a breath, listened for noises coming from inside. Nothing. The place was empty.

He opened the door with a tentative push and peeked in. The whole apartment was in chaos; doors hanging off their hinges, furniture overturned, drapes ripped down. The kitchen was in a similar state. Cupboards were wide open, all the plates on the floor in bits and pieces. No sign of Tifa so far. He came to the bedroom. The knot in his gut tightened and his hands kept trembling. Tifa's mattress was cut, the fillings bursting out quite grotesquely. Her scent still lingered in the room. Clothes and personal belongings were scattered all over the floor. Framed photographs of her family, broken and shattered. He glanced at one of the pictures. Tifa as a ten-year-old, grinning from ear to ear, parents smiling fondly behind her. Her father looking slightly uncomfortable. Cloud thought about his mom. How she must have suffered. Just like Tifa had.

_"... Unhappiness and bad luck..." __He couldn't close his ears from the voices inside his head. _

She was probably still sleeping when they came in. Men in uniforms, men she didn't know. She had no idea what was going on, and yet Cloud knew she wouldn't have gone down without a fight. She was strong, too, so she could take care of a couple of them, but not all of them. They'd overpower her, force her on her knees, put her hands behind her back and tie her wrists so tight the cord would bite deep into her skin... Cloud closed his eyes as if the visions were real and he could hide from them.

_'Brave girl.'_

How did Hojo know? How did he find her? From the moment Cloud heard Tifa's name leave Hojo's lips he'd held on to the smallest bit of hope that the professor had been bluffing, that it was all a lie just to fuck with his head one last time.

The worst part was that Tifa had nothing to do with this. It was just as Hojo had put it; she was too kind hearted for her own good. Even when he had hurt her, almost killed her, did she forgive him. She'd been too good, too kind.

Cloud opened his eyes and looked at his hands. They were smeared with Hojo's blood. His knuckles were bloody and bruised. Not so long ago same these hands held Tifa, stroked her skin. But everything he touched was tainted by him and turned to something dark and bleak. His blood might've been contaminated with Mako, but there was a disease inside him much more dangerous - and much more contagious.

It was time to go. There was nothing left to do.

Cloud left the apartment for the last time and disappeared into the slums.

* * *

AN: So is Tifa dead or not? ... I'm not telling! See you in the last chapter!


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